


moonchild

by cabriesun



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, College!AU, Fluff, Implied Sexual Activity, M/M, Major Character Injury (Shiro’s Accident), Mild underage drinking, Romantic Soulmates, Sexual Humor, Sexual Themes, Shiro is Aged Down (he’s 22), Sloppy Makeouts, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 01:10:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 34,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15061775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabriesun/pseuds/cabriesun
Summary: When Keith was growing up, he couldn’t see the stars through his windows. It wasn't anyone’s fault; the skies just weren't clear enough for stargazing. He would look up each night no matter where he was, eyes shimmering with the kind of childlike excitement that hadn’t been tainted by the plagues of life. But each night he would step down from whichever window he found, his previous delight forgotten. All he wanted to do was see the stars, but he could only see the moon.Keith had always hated the moon.ButGod, did he love what the moon gave him.





	1. AUTUMN

**Author's Note:**

> w o w. to say i've been working on this since december, and to see it be fulfilled to the end, is a feeling i can't even begin to describe. this story was birthed in my college dorm, listening to M83 while my friends all sat around my room, playing uno and eating dominoes pizza. ridiculous, what things come of simple instances.
> 
> \-------
> 
> i have a lot of thank yous and overdramatic things to do, so let me just start with these three:
> 
> 1\. my INCREDIBLE beta [nasi](http://nasigorengmaincourse.tumblr.com/), for putting up with my utter bullshit and last minute stress, along with helping me bring this fic together. she's honestly the best and the story would be an incomprehensible mess without her. 
> 
> 2\. my equally INCREDIBLE artists [grey](https://escaleamare.tumblr.com/) and [emeel](http://emmmwinch-art.tumblr.com/), for their constant support and love for this mess and for helping bring this fic to life! :') their art isn't _quite_ complete yet, as things have come up, but it will be here and linked soon!
> 
> 3\. thank you to the [keith mini bang](http://keithminibang.tumblr.com/) mods for everything they've done to keep this event running! i _highly_ recommend going to the collection and checking out all the other works!
> 
> along with art, i've also created a playlist on spotify, which can be accessed [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/niallator365/playlist/390m9Sl4h2EJbnyVXC5AOW?si=fj1pfuqLQUuDtbwmOpl9Qg). this playlist features songs directly mentioned in the work, along with songs that got me through the writing and inspired specific scenes. listening while reading isn't exactly necessary, but it certainly adds some extra magic to the experience!
> 
> and finally, a _huge_ thank you to every single person i pestered about this AU, from the initial outlining to the final stages of tying things together. 
> 
> i truly hope that you enjoy my story of shiro and keith's love from my sick, twisted, romantic mess of a mind (both the downfalls, and the triumphs).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _AUTUMN IS WEIRD, TO SAY THE LEAST._ It’s the dying season, where all living things fade off in anticipation of the winter. The school year would be anew, and everyone would be making changes. Whether it was what clothes they wore, what classes they took, or even what friends they decided to keep and leave, people were making changes in the fall. There was something about the crisp air and the leaves falling off the trees that made people want to start over. It gave you a kick in your step, watching the sunsets with their vibrant hues and mesmerizing patterns. His college campus was hopping with excitement, first-year students ready to experience the college experience to its fullest because hey, it’s autumn; let’s change the game.
> 
> Fall is the season that Keith saw as a time for new beginnings, even more so when stumbling into Shiro for the first time. Meeting Shiro was like watching a thousand sunsets unfold before his eyes without an end in sight; unreal. 
> 
> A sight you have to _see_ , to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _a note about the set up of this work:_  
>  there will be roman numerals that label the beginning of new scenes. these are implied time skips. this story is told in slices, and time skips are more than normal. there will be gaps here and there, but anything important is included in the scene. (plus, this leaves room for me to expand on scenes after the fic is complete! unfortunately, time constraints and my tendency to write and never stop have left me with the unfortunate decision of shortening some parts.
> 
> once this fic is completed, i will be going through and deleting errors!
> 
>  
> 
> **CURRENT STATUS: possible errors**

i.

“Can I just have a cheeseburger with fries? But like, nothing else on the burger. Just cheese.”

“So no lettuce, tomatoes, or pickles?”

Keith grimaces. _Pickles_.

“Nope. None of that please.”

“Mayonnaise?”

The sharpness present in her tone is what makes him look up from the menu. Her eyebrow is arched as she glances at him from behind her notepad. He narrows his eyes right back at her, reminding her that she wasn’t getting paid to judge how he wanted his damn burger prepared.

“ _No_ , I’m good. Thank you.”

He slaps it shut, handing it to her not-so-nicely as she meanders away from him, clearly annoyed with her customer. Like he cared anyway. Keith remains unshocked at what the beginning of his college experience was turning out to be. His dorm room is adequate, nothing special that made the spur of moving in any more exciting than it was supposed to be.

His roommate?

Loud.

 _Unnecessarily_ loud.

Keith was greeted with a booming ‘Hi! I’m Lance!’, one he wasn’t expecting so soon after settling in. Lance had shown up four hours late, and though Keith was annoyed that he couldn’t have been more prepared to be bombarded by Lance and his equally loud family, it _technically_ wasn’t his fault.

Lance is one of the college’s prized transfer students, coming all the way from Cuba on a full ride from the university. He knew his roommate was vastly more intelligent than he came off as, and hoped that they would uncover similarities there. Keith, (though he despised living with someone else) didn’t want to go through the drama of switching rooms and earning a blow on his dorming privileges. He was willing to work out compromises in order to maintain some sort of peace between the two of them.

His voice is pronounced, so much that Keith swears he can hear him talking in his head.

Wait.

He blinks, channeling back into the commotion of the diner.

Certain he heard Lance’s voice, but unsure of where, he tries to tune out the voice in his head. But he can’t, because the voice he’s hearing doesn’t arise from his thoughts.

“How long are we gonna be here? The play is in like two hours! Do you wanna miss it, or what?”

 _He’s outside_.

“Your burger?”

Her prickly tone crawls up Keith’s spine, sending shudders straight through. In her hands is a plate, the burger he’d ordered not too long ago steaming. He had almost forgotten how hungry he was.

“Thanks,” He mutters, taking the plate from her and placing it in front of him. Cheese, and nothing else. At least she had followed his order accordingly rather than botching it out of spite.

The bell attached to the top of the door rings, startling Keith as his eccentric roommate's voice booms, signaling his entry into the establishment. Behind him are two other college students (he can see their ID cards hanging around their neck). The girl, is significantly shorter than the other two, her hair wrapped up in a bun with loose strands of hair hanging from the sides. Her eyes are closed as she leans against the tallest of the trio, chomping repugnantly on her gum. Why did she have to open her mouth so widely whenever she chewed?

Too preoccupied with observing the trio, he misses Lance locating him in the far back of the diner.

“Guys!”

Keith is visibly startled at the sound of Lance’s voice, dropping his food on his plate.

“Look! It’s my roommate!”

Lance bounds over like a hurricane, engulfing Keith in a hug that he so obviously did not want. He stiffens, eyes trained on the marble table his fists rest on as he’s squeezed beyond his limits. Lance’s body is warm but it doesn’t bring him any form of comfort.

“Guys, this is Keith Kogane. He’s really quiet, but I’m sure we can turn him around with time, effort, and constant annoyance.”

“Lance you’re suffocating him,” the heftier of the three tugs his nimble roommate off of Keith by the shirt, smiling apologetically at him, “he’s never gonna turn around if he doesn’t have room to.”

“Hunk, I’m not in the mood for your input.”

 “I’m just saying, ease up.”

 “ _Fiiiiine,”_ Lance drawls on, seating himself next to his roommate. As the Cuban boy nudges Keith back into the corner of the booth, he watches dejectedly as his silent ambience is torn from his hands. He didn’t want to be the one to say that he didn’t like Lance despite knowing him for a few hours, but _he didn’t like Lance_.

But his bulky friend that tugged him off? He has potential. Keith isn’t too sure about the girl yet.

“I’m Hunk,” the one with potential holds his hand out to shake, “this is Pidge, and I’m sure you already know Lance.”

“You say it as if I’m a bother.”

“It’s easier to just assume that you _are_ one when it comes to strangers.”

“Keith’s not a _stranger_ ,” Lance responds. He reaches out to take a french fry from Keith’s plate sitting out in the open. But the latter is fast, slapping his hand away with the shock a lightning bolt.

“Okay! Okay, jeez.” He holds his hands up in defeat, leaning back into the corner of the booth he’d claimed as his own the moment he walked in the diner, “Anyway, what are you doing here moping?”

“I’m not moping? I’m just eating. I haven’t eaten since I moved in.”

“Really? Shit, dude you moved in _before_ me and I couldn’t wait to eat.”

“Then maybe you should get something instead of trying to steal my food-- _hey!_ ”

“Ow! Jesus Keith, I’m fucking around!”

“Can you stop?” He grumbles, pushing his full plate towards the outside of the booth, “what are you even doing here?”

“You know,” The girl (Pidge. Her name is Pidge) speaks up, crossing her arms after she locks her phone, “we’d love to know the same thing, Keith.”

“What…?” Keith looks between the three of them, “You’re not supposed to be here?”

“No--well, you see, we’re supposed to be heading to the university’s rendition of ‘Romeo and Juliet’. A classic, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Good. Anyway, we were supposed to be headed there, but I saw you in the window of the diner while we were walking by and I _had_ to say hi! What kind of roommate would I be?”

“Right.”

Keith’s tone is flat, still unsure of why Lance _had_ to seek him out. Technically, there really was no reason for them to be talking right now. Maybe it’s his hunger (he’s still fucking _starving_ ), but he isn’t really in the mood to continue the exchange.

“Well, this has been nice, but--”

“You should come with us!”

 _Shit_.

“Thanks for the invite,” Keith tries not to make his desperation to ditch the trio evident, “but I’m _really_ tired and I should go back to my room--”

“ _Our_ room,” Lance scolds him, “and no! It’s your first night on campus! Come _with us_ Keith, it’s not supposed to be that bad of a show!”

How is the drama program already prepared with a show on their first night on campus? Did they really work that fast here? Or was it already being rehearsed during the summer?

Keith, still slightly bewildered, then asks himself who in the _hell_ would want to stay on campus for an entire summer.

“Keith! Come on. It’s a great opportunity to _meet_ people, and be social—”

“I’m social!” He argues Lance’s claim, “You don’t even know me! We met like what, two hours ago?!”

“And you’ve lead me to believe that you’re antisocial already. Huh, who would’ve thought?”

“You know what, _fine_.” Keith stands up in the booth, calling out to his waitress,

“Excuse me?! Can I have a to-go box?”

He receives a venomous glare before a solemn nod, the woman (who would _not_ be getting any sort of tip) stalking off to get what he’d asked for.

“Ah, so he _does_ have a social bone in his body. Amazing!”

“Can you like, lay off?” Keith asks once more, turning all his annoyance to the blue-eyed boy, “Your preconceived opinions of me are kind of annoying.”

“Joke’s on you,” Lance grins complacently while sliding out of the booth, “I don’t even know what preconceived means!”

Keith, who can’t bring himself to form a coherent reply to that statement, decides to just go with the flow in the end, following the group outside and snatching his carryout box from the waitress on the way out. He’s about to make his getaway, hot on Hunk’s heels, but he’s stopped by the annoying voice of the same woman.

“Sir,” she sneers, “you still have to pay.”

 _Right_.

* * *

The theater was a lengthy walk, long enough for Keith to take time and float alongside his thoughts, escaping the noise that surrounds him. He hasn’t the slightest clue what Pidge, Hunk and Lance are yelling about, and the more he tries to tune in, the more he wishes he’d never tagged along in the first place.

Campus is at least pretty at night. The buildings lit up the otherwise starry night sky, lights inside the structures yet to be turned off. The lamp posts that line the walkway to the theater also provide light for them as they trekked, the trio bustling ahead as Keith wandered behind, content with letting the wind rustle through his hair.

Keith personally loved the smell of late summer. It wasn’t too humid, but that carefree air was still there, present in the autumn wind that blew in the night. The atmosphere that would take its place later in the fall was crisper, more of a light smack on your cheek rather than a warm, soothing caress.

He’s appreciated the change in seasons for as long as he can remember, all while never understanding why anyone else around him _didn’t_. Keith can’t pick a favorite season, just because of how much he appreciates every single one individually.

Eventually he has to stop daydreaming and tune back into the current situation, following his roommate and his friends and they all barrel into the theater noisily. He thumbs the playbill in his hand, finger running over ‘Romeo and Juliet’, written in Blackletter typeface. Keeping an open mind for the sake of the university, he seats himself next to Hunk, who turns and continues to converse with the other two. Keith settles into his seat, watching the aisles surrounding him fill. Maybe the show isn’t going to be as bad as he thought.

Despite any assumed opinions Keith has regarding to the show, they hold no merit once the curtains draw to the sides and the actors flood on stage. His chin rests in his open palm, watching as the first scene plays out before him.

Romeo and Juliet is one of the plays that Keith happens to know by heart; if he really tried, he could probably recite it off the top of his head. But Keith’s no show off, and he doesn’t know what kind of attention he’ll attract showing that off.

Besides, not everything Shakespeare wrote was worth saying in present day.

The performers run through their lines, the words falling from their lips blurring into faded echoes as Keith’s eyes begin to flutter shut minutes after the beginning. He tries to fight it for the sake of being a good audience member, but once the harp cuts in he’s gone, the exhaustion from move-in day overcoming him.

* * *

Keith awakens to loud applause, some of it directly in his ear. He jumps back at the sound, only to be greeted by Lance’s beaming face and another round of excessive applause that invades his personal space. Panicked when his roommate gets in his face again, he bounds back even further, bumping heads with the man in the seat beside him.

“Ow!” Keith yelps and leaps the other way, recovering quickly in order to apologize to the man beside him. Like he said before, he didn’t need to make any enemies before classes even started. Unfortunately he can barely get a sentence in before Keith is stunned into utter quietude for the first time in his life.

“Hey dude I’m--”

The reparation dies in his throat, a stormy gaze that only leads to a sharp jaw and a chiseled body grabbing him by the throat. White dye never looked better in anyone’s hair like it did his, the rest dark and sporting an undercut that more than suits him. Keith loses all sense of thought as the man he stumbled into says something, mouth moving eloquently, yet he's unable to hear.

Voices continue to blur out, the only sound left being a gentle hum as anxiety fills his otherwise empty vessel of a body.

 _Holy shit_. In short, he’s beautiful. Or maybe that’s an exaggeration; Keith’s seen plenty of beautiful people, he’s just never seen a looker like him in person before. He’s seems to be out of place, not worthy of the stingy local university. The theater is still dim but the stranger’s luminous smile manages to bring all the light back. It’s welcoming, tempting Keith to chip at his carefully constructed safeguards, to let him the softer side of the otherwise resilient young man.

“Hello? Are you oka--”

“Shiro!”

Keith blinks a few times, Pidge’s shrill yell a stark awakening from his stupor. The living and breathing Adonis before him is suddenly attacked by the young girl, legs wrapping around his waist as he’s squeezed tightly in her embrace.

“I didn’t know you were here!”

“H-Hey Pidge,” he manages to laugh, though his throat is currently being crushed. His hair falls to the side at a perfect angle, and it doesn’t register that Keith had received a name to pin onto his face until it’s repeated once more.

“So _this_ is the Shiro we keep hearing about!” Lance’s voice is still clear and audible over the roar of audience members leaving their seats and greeting cast members, “I was wondering when we were going to meet him!”

His name is Shiro. Keith doesn’t know the origin off the top of his head, knowing if he wanted to get to know the man any more than from face value.

“You’d eventually meet him,” Pidge rolls her eyes, “if not now, then some other time.”

Keith wants to ask how they know each other, but he’s unsure of how to move to conversation forward from awkward introductions, or how to not awkwardly ask how the group knew that. Not that it _would_ be strange if he were to ask. It was a valid question, being that he was the obvious outlier in the situation.

 _So do it,_ the voice in his head scolds him, _ask him_.

“Can I uh…” the group looks to him at the sound of his timid tone, “ask where you all know each other?”

Proudly, Pidge jumps off of Shiro’s broad form before answering Keith’s question in entirety.

“Shiro and my brother were roommates before he graduates,” she explains, “they’re best friends and I was told that Shiro would be serving as my personal college security guard. He’s graduating this year though, so I have to stretch out his services as long as possible.”

“Which I don’t really understand the appeal,” Lance shrugs from behind the pair, poking the older man’s bicep invasively, “we’re supposed to be _free_ in college, and Pidge is excited to have an extension of her brother by her side.”

“You only know Shiro indirectly,” she defends him, “he’s chill, you’ll see.”

“So you all know him?” Keith asks, concerned with the fact that he’s even more of an outlier than he thought he was. He didn’t _want_ to be one. As soon as he had met Shiro, he wanted to be involved. Even if that meant spending time with Lance more than he wanted to.

But he also had no right (or need) to crave involvement.

“Yeah,” Lance shrugs nonchalantly, “he’s pretty cool for like, the annoying older brother type.”

“Stop it,” Shiro smacks his arm before giving him a firm shove, “it’s not like that. You’re making me sound elderly.”

“You _are_ elderly.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Shiro rolls his eyes. Keith expects the conversation to continue, but he turns back around to gaze right at him, holding his hand out. His voice shrinks, suddenly mute as he acknowledges his presence.

“You never told me you if you were okay,” he says, “I’m—”

“Shiro,” Keith nods, “yeah, I uh, picked up on that.”

“Right,” Shiro nods back curtly, looking down where his feet are nervously cemented into the ground. He follows his wandering eyes, nervous to see what he’s looking at. Are his Converse scuffed? Did gum miraculously stick somewhere other than the bottom of his shoe?

“You’ve been to the diner?”

Oh. His leftovers. Yeah, the flamboyant container would surely stir some kind of attention.

“Yeah,” Keith replies as he reaches down to pick it up, picking at the styrofoam anxiously, “I went before Lance uh, dragged me to this play.”

“Ah, so _you’re_ Lance’s roommate.”

“I--”

Then, Shiro leans in close, to the point where he can feel his chest constricting. _Too_ close for Keith’s comfort, personally, but he’s tempted to allow it. It’s not like Shiro smells bad. And though he’s close, he’s still managing to keep a respectable distance with his body. Only his face is pressed up close and in Keith’s business. With a low voice, he whispers,

“Good luck. He’ll talk until you have to wake up the next morning. When he’s awake, and when he’s asleep.”

“Hey!” Lance yells unnecessarily, being that they’re still standing in front of the same row of chairs, “are you talking shit?!”

“You are _so loud_ , it’s actually incredible.” Pidge pushes through him and Hunk, crossing her arms as she turns to converse with them. With the trio preoccupied, Shiro’s attention falls back on Keith, who wasn’t really prepared for them to continue talking.

“So what building do you live in?”

“Trinity Hall,” Keith manages to squeak out. He’s running out of things to say and it’s becoming more obvious by the second.

“Kingsman,” Shiro nods his head to where Keith assumes his dorm is, “hello, neighbor.”

“Ha, right.”

A momentary pause until the tall beguiling beauty brings up the topic of Keith’s leftovers once more.

“So, the diner…”

“What about it?”

“I’ve been here for five years, and I have yet to try it.”

“Really?” Keith asks, “Why?”

“I’ve heard a lot of mixed reviews, wasn’t sure who to trust,” he grins sheepishly, “you seem like a person with a good sense of where to eat.”

 _Does he?_ He reaches to twiddle with his hair, overgrown and definitely overdue for a haircut. What made him the perfect person to choose what places are good to eat?

“So? What do you think?”

“I--I haven’t exactly finished the meal yet?” Keith manages to muster, “The majority of it is actually in the box.”

“Well then, I guess you’re just going to have to tell me when you finish.”

There’s something about the way Shiro acknowledges him after, this knowing smile that there was a _definite_ chance of them meeting again. Like, even if Keith doesn’t give a single shit about the diner and the food that they serve, Shiro will be there. They’ll meet again, undoubtedly.

“Then I guess I’m going to have to tell you,” The younger replies, noticing the hint of playfulness of his tongue. Shiro beams at this reply, folding his arms before shrugging,

“Guess you will.”

“Shiro!”

He turns to the trio, who stare at him longingly.

“We’d love to keep watching you and Keith talk, but three fifths of the group is tired, which means you’re officially outnumbered!”

“Are we leaving?” He asks with sadness in his tone, not really wanting his conversation with Shiro to end.

“Wow, a second ago, you didn’t want to!” Lance teases, reaching past them to pinch Keith’s arm harshly, “Interesting--”

“Quit it!” He barks, slapping his hand away, “I’m just _saying_ , why drag me out to just stay out for two seconds? I dunno…”

“Class starts tomorrow,” Pidge stretches her arms out wide, fauxing a yawn before letting them fall back to her sides, “we weren’t planning on being on our bullshit all night. Don’t worry, as long as you’re Lance’s roommate, there will be time for that.”

“But I--”

“Hey, no worries,”

Keith glances up, locking eyes with Shiro as he rests a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll have to see each other soon eventually. You have to tell me if the food at the diner is good or not once you finish.”

His hand leaves his shoulder promptly, Keith’s eyes following his hand anxiously as it stuffs itself back in his jacket pocket.

“So I’ll see you around…Keith. Keith, right?”

“Yeah,” he exhales, “Keith Kogane.”

“Takashi is my full name,” Shiro confesses sheepishly, “but Shiro is good; easier to remember. See you all later!”

Shiro turns and disappears just as fast as he stumbled into Keith’s personal space. Or, the other way around…

The young man can barely find words to sum up what had just happened, but the moment he can’t see Shiro any longer, his nerves dissipate, and the enticement is gone. Keith feels like himself once more, and it’s enough to shake himself out of whatever trance he was drawn towards.

It was ridiculous, the way his heart skipped a few more beats than normal when Shiro came around. He didn’t have time for crushes, _unrealistic_ ones at that. He’s an engineering major; there’s a lot of work ahead of him. Plus, Shiro’s certainly the type to have a girlfriend in seconds. The chances of him liking men were extremely minimal.

 _But that doesn’t matter anyway!_ Keith scolds himself, _You don’t want or need a relationship with him_.

He purses his lips, staring down at the ground. There it was—that tendency to look too far ahead and build up unrealistic hope. And for what? A man he just met? It was a quality he hated; one that came from his mother, without a doubt. The side of him that he _knew_ was a hopeless romantic, that wanted to at least _try_ dating before he was old…

But not now, and _not_ with the first person he locks eyes with. It’s childish, and Keith knows this better than anyone. So it’s time for him to stop. Shiro is nothing more than Lance’s friend.

That’s it.

He and Lance return around midnight, the latter stumbling into the room with light chuckles vibrating from his core.

“Come on Keith, you can’t tell me that story wasn’t funny!”

“I didn’t really get the purpose of it?” Keith hangs his jacket on the hook behind his door, bare arms now exposed to the stuffy air in their room.

The story, was about Hunk, Pidge and Lance, and their endeavors in high school. Something about how they started the food fight of the year and got away with it. Regardless, Keith had lost interest once Lance had mentioned their ‘elaborate plan’.

“It was me, telling you a story! You know, trying to bond with the person I’m going to live with for a year?”

“You’re gonna need more ammo than a lousy food fight story.”

“Hey! I’m—well, what’s your interesting bonding story?!”

“I don’t have one,” Keith mutters as their door shuts behind him, “I didn’t know that was an obligation.”

“Well, I mean if we wanna get to know each other, we’ve gotta share a little about ourselves. Like, alright here…”

Keith reaches for the hem of his shirt absentmindedly, turning the ends up as he inches it off his body, ignoring Lance for the time being.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue,” he sighs. His head tips to the side only to see Lance’s face bright with excitement at the mention of his favorite color.

“Mine too!” He practically squeals, the high pitch of his voice causing Keith to cringe.

_Oh god._

“That’s nice…”

His words float in the air while he reaches for a shirt to change into. From his perspective, it’s pointless to go through this back and forth, twenty questions bullshit. He didn’t have to bond with Lance in order to live with him. They could live in peace on their separate sides without any sort of connection or friendship. Because friendships lead to issues, and Keith really isn’t seeking to find any.

“Favorite…band?”

“Don’t have one.”

“What?!”

Lance’s shout carries through their door into the hallway, prompting their neighbor to bang on the wall, yelling something that’s too muffled for Keith to hear properly.

“Dude!” He hisses, “it’s quiet hours!”

His eyes scream annoyance, but Keith isn’t sure his body language says the same. He’s always had that problem, feeling one way and having to deal with his body relaying another message. Usually it’s the polar opposite, so when he tries to be intimidating, it never works.

“Who gives a _fuck_ about that? You don’t have a favorite band?!”

“That’s not worth screaming over! What the hell?!”

“Well well well,” Lance pouts before crossing his arms and legs, plopping down on his bed, “look who’s screaming _now_ , Keith.”

“ _Ugh_.”

Choosing to ignore his roommate over arguing with him, he turns back to his drawer, fishing inside for a decent shirt to wear to bed. He’s close to finding something decent (though wishing he had put his favorite shirts closer to the top) when Lance interrupts once more, with a gasp instead of an alarming outburst.

“Dude.”

“What?”

“Your tattoos. I—those are amazing…”

Keith had nearly forgotten about the tattoos that adorned the entirety of his back. He’d never been insecure of his figure, being slightly toned all through high school. There was nothing to _be_ insecure about, when it came down to it. He had good form, and decent muscle on his arms and legs. The only problem he has with his body is his tattoos. He didn’t get them as a joke, or on a dare, or to just _get them_. They had meaning; deep meaning that he wasn’t quite fond of discussing.

“Thanks,” he mutters quietly, pulling a cotton white t-shirt over his messy head of hair.

“Where did you get them?”

“Home,” he mumbles, but it seems that one worded answers will _never_ be enough for Lance. He fires off another question as Keith toes off his Converse.

“What does it mean?”

“None of your business, Lance.” He sighs exasperatedly, fingers reaching to curl into his dark locks, tousling it back to a somewhat decent state.

“I mean, do you like space? I thought you were an engineering major, but the constellations on your back say otherwise.”

“Look, can you just stop asking questions?” Keith tries to be reasonable this time, asking with what he hopes is an exhausted look on his face. He’s trying, he really is. He doesn’t want problems, he doesn’t want to be rude. But he also just wants Lance to _shut the fuck up_.

“I, uh, is it a rough patch? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Just—it’s whatever,” Keith climbs into his bed, rolling into his sheets and staring up at the lights that Lance strategically strung along their wide windows. He probably did it while he escaped to the diner.

 _The diner_. His heart leaps as he looks over to the fridge where his leftovers were. The same leftovers that Shiro is probably waiting for him to critique. He’d hung on to every word that left Shiro’s lips after he expressed interest in reuniting.

“You and Shiro seemed to hit it off well.”

Keith jumps in bed, startled by Lance’s timing. Of course he mentions Shiro the second his mind wanders to him.

“I-I mean, did we?”

“You like talking to him,” Lance continues, “you weren’t pleasant until he came.”

“What does that mean? He’s just a nice person…”

“Am I not nice?!”

Keith squints at him, reminded of just how irritating Lance has been all night. The Cuban boy does a double take before releasing a low groan.

“Fine fine. Look, Shiro’s great. That’s all I’m saying. He’s a bit older, but I’m glad you two got a long. He’s gonna be around a lot.”

“He is?”

 _This_ peaks his interest.

“Yeah, he’s a part of our group.”

“You, Hunk, and Pidge’s group?”

“Yes, that would be us,” Lance falls back onto his many pillows. He brought an abundance, varying from body pillows to small decoration pillows. They’re assorted in color, and out of the corner of his eye he sees a small rainbow print pillow.

Keith likes the fact that he’s going to a liberal arts college, where sexuality is an open deal. Seeing Lance’s rainbow pillow reminds him of that, sparking a warm sensation in his stomach.

The part of him that usually strays from rational thinking hopes that he’ll run into Shiro again soon. He isn’t exactly _opposed_ to that light flutter that floated through his system upon first glance.

“Goodnight, Keith.”

He blinks, looking down at Lance who’s turned to the wall and about to fall asleep. His stoic nature returns, cheeks reddening at how his mind wandered back to the moment he had to talk with Shiro. It’s certainly time to sleep now. He sits up to respond to Lance, before falling back into the embrace of his sheets.

“Goodnight.”

 

ii.

The first day of classes goes swimmingly for Keith, whose silence fits right in with all the other engineering majors. It isn’t exactly a ‘quiet’ practice, and he knows this, but if he can get by without really talking to anyone in class, he’ll be alright. It’s how he got through high school (for the most part), so part of him hopes to get away with the same strategy.

He doesn’t consider himself antisocial. That’s a term he’s heard far too much in his youth, and even in his adolescence. No, he’s not antisocial in the slightest. _Selectively_ social though, now that’s a different story. To know when your input is needed is something completely different from shutting yourself out from the universe. If Keith ever desperate needs to communicate, he will! He’s not _against_ it, he just prefers to keep to himself, stay backstage and observe everything out of the common eye.

And he can’t bother to give a _shit_ about what other people think, either.

He’s lucky though. Lance’s schedule and his line up so he ends up with a lot more free time than he bargained. Free time to sleep, study, and bask in solitude as much as he pleased.

When Lance returns, it was a different story.

Preparation time was never a problem; whether Lance is alone or with Pidge and Hunk, you can always tell when he’s walking down the hall. A set of keychains hooked onto his phone jingle with every step he takes. Once he opens the door, it’s an endless one sided conversation, or collective noise from the three of them. He just ignores them, hoping that he’ll be able to get through his work and find time to sleep. Usually, his attention is only peaked at the mention of Shiro.

When Lance brings him back after their first meeting, it’s a mess.

Around ten o’clock on a Tuesday, one week and three days after syllabus week, Lance barges into the room, swinging his key in the air triumphantly. Pidge and Hunk parade behind him, the latter’s broad build disguising Shiro.

“Hey Keith,” Lance calls out, barely acknowledging his presence physically, “we’re going out to dinner.”

“Where?”

Keith looks up from his history book, his minimal interest quickly flipping to shock as soon as he sees Shiro for a second time. It only worsens when his smile widens . Oh god oh _god_ , don’t read into it, don’t read into it—

“Hey Keith.”

“Hey!”

He waves, his smile slowly molding into a cringe as soon as Shiro turns his attention to Lance’s side of the room. His response was _way_ too eager for someone who isn’t supposed to be into Shiro so quickly. Slightly embarrassed, he watches as Shiro sits on Lance’s bed, watching him collect his things. As he’s distracted by the herculean figure that God blessed Shiro with, he almost misses Lance answering his question.

“We’re going to Buffalo Wild Wings; Shiro’s driving.”

“You have a car?” Keith asks, wanting to smack himself not long afterwards. _No shit he has a car, Kogane._

“Yeah, Range Rover.”

He grins proudly, and Keith can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. He watches Shiro’s face brighten at the mentioning of his car. He should say something else. Compliment him?

…Compliment the car?

His homework cries out from behind him; the perfect escape from the conversation and the best way to prevent any possible embarrassment. Instead of granting Shiro a response, Keith lets him converse with the trio and resumes his work.

He’s not ready for this.

“I can’t _wait_ for some fucking buffalo wings!” Lance cheers, “I feel like I haven’t had any in ten thousand years.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Pidge remarks, “not only that, but I bet you had wings a _week_ ago. And plus he…”

The background noise fades into a harmless buzz as Keith attempts to zone back into his work. Every time Shiro’s voice appears in the meld, his heart drops out of his ass. He’s jealous of the others; or - how they can so easily talk to someone like Shiro, like it’s no big deal!

Usually, Keith hasn’t a single care, and to suddenly _have_ one is something that aggravates him rather intrigue. Yet, the feeling refuses to fade even after actively avoiding him. But why—

“Keith.”

Lance’s voice crawls underneath his skin, a minor fright as he looks up from his engineering workbook, homework untouched.

“Hm?” Keith makes a strained sound.

“We’re leaving, are you gonna leave the room?”

“Well, I mean _yeah?_ I have to eat—”

“Why can’t you just come eat with us?!” He whines, “it’s so much easier if you come with us!”

“Why do you want me to eat with you so badly?”

“B—Because…well, I won’t have to carry my key?”

Keith blinks, searching for any hint of childish humor in Lance’s face. For the first time, there’s nothing to be found. He’d known people that didn’t feel like carrying around their own keys, and the results never ended up the way they wanted them to be. The memory of those instances make his eye twitch.

“You’re kidding, right?” Keith asks. Even his friends are looking at Lance strangely (with the exception of Shiro, who Keith’s purposely kept out of his line of vision), “You don't want to carry your key?”

“Can you—look, I’m _inviting_ you to come with us! You don’t leave your room! Come on, _please?_ ”

“Lance,” Keith lectures, “that’s bullshit.”

“Look,” Pidge interrupts, somehow expressing what is presumably the visual depiction of hunger, “normally, I’d humor this, because yeah Keith, you _do_ have a point. But I am so fucking hungry I might eat your fridge in one sitting. Can you just come with us?”

It doesn’t make sense that their decision completely revolves around his attendance, and Keith is prepared to tell them that. The books sitting on his desk serve as a heavy weight of his responsibilities, and the mere _reason_ he managed to get into this college. But the small voice in the back of of his mind whispering for him to _go_ is louder than any rational thought.

So he agrees.

The walk to Shiro’s car is one he can’t retell. He’s sort of going through the motions as the world hustles around him. He’s not empty, but rather his disbelief is having permanent effects on his body. Lance is the only one in the group of five jumping around like a toddler, with the entire college seemingly quiet as they walk towards the parking garage. The night is clear, but Keith can’t see any stars. He isn’t very shocked at this, but what he _is_ surprised about is that Buffalo Wild Wings is still open at this hour. When he asks, he’s greeted with an influx of answers.

“It’s open until two in the morning here. They know that their restaurant is near a college campus, and have adjusted accordingly.”

“Legends, if I do say so myself.” Hunk agrees fondly, Lance throwing him a wink as he nudges his shoulder. Keith rolls his eyes, knowing there are no bounds to how many people Lance will wink at in a given location.

Hunk goes to a culinary school not too far from here, so having him around for the night is a relatively rare occasion. Whenever he’s away, Pidge and Lance always make up for his absence by talking non-stop about him. It’s unfortunate that Hunk doesn’t live with them. Mostly because of the three, Hunk has respected his boundaries and been generally kind to Keith. He lacks Lance’s wild, overbearing tendencies, and Pidge’s coldness that can come off as something it isn’t intending to be.

It’s…easier.

Keith doesn’t get into Shiro’s characteristics. Not only does he not know enough, but the thought ignites something he isn't sure he wants to explore.

“Here we are!” Shiro announces their arrival, swinging his Garrison lanyard about his index finger. Keith’s eyes are fixated on the effortless movement—how something so mundane looks _so good_ on someone.

“I call shotgun!” Pidge shouts, but sharp ‘ _tsk_ ’s stop her.

“No way. Not after last time,” The elder group member comments, “Keith can sit with me.”

He’s listening to the entire exchange, but still jumps at the sound of his name leaving Shiro’s mouth.

“What?! Really?!”

“I’m driving! Shouldn’t I make the rules?”

“Okay okay, but _Shiro_ ,” Lance steps right in front of Keith, who is suddenly slapped with the smell of heavy cologne and expensive hair products. He grimaces, moving to the side as his roommate attempts to persuade Shiro to sway from his decision, “take this into consideration: _me_.”

“I almost crashed the car with you up front.”

“What?! That was—”

“Don’t make me tell the story.”

That seems to be enough for Lance to keep quiet. Keith watches as the boy dejectedly stomps towards the back door like a child. He wants to chuckle a bit, never seeing Lance act so immature before, but Shiro distracts him from considering it.

He opens the door to the passenger side, crossing his ankles and bowing like a Disney prince.

“After you,” he says, pitch an octave lower. Keith’s right hand brushes a loose hair hanging in front of his face, hoping he can hide the blush burning his cheeks.

Though it wasn’t unnecessary…he enjoyed it. A lot.

As soon as he’s in the car and everyone manages to get situated, they’re off to Buffalo Wild Wings. A chunk of the crowd seems to be putting all their focus and energy into the wings they’re about to devour, but Keith’s mind wanders to two places.

One: his homework. Keith didn’t exactly pick an _easy_ major. And he isn’t exactly paying his tuition on his own. There’s a lot of work and studying he needs to do in order to be successful. Or rather, keep his scholarship.

Two: the man beside him. Shiro’s a casual driver, switching from two hands on the wheel to a single hand on the wheel. He’s probably one of the better drivers Keith has been with, though it’s been a while since he’s been in a car. Trains were the main method of transportation, which meant that if you missed it, you were staying home.

Keith missed that train plenty.

Cold air blasts throughout the car, the AC system turned on as soon as he lit the key in the ignition. Pidge, Lance and Hunk chatter loudly behind him, something about a video they watched earlier. His thumb caresses his thigh, nervous as he sits in the leather seat, eyes trained on the road.

His mind swims with non-stop images and thoughts until Shiro’s crisp voice calls him out of his trance.

“So, what’s your major?” He asks calmly,  left hand falling to his lap.

“Engineering,” Keith manages to answer.

  
“ _Shit_ ,” Shiro says with a hint of surprise, “kudos to you. I wouldn’t be able to make it.”

“I-It’s not that bad, once you get past all the math-or at least that’s what I’ve heard from other engineering majors…” Keith lies straight through his teeth, eyes darting between Shiro and the window next to him every five seconds. _Why did he agree to come?_

“It’s still a lot of work though!” Shiro compliments him, “I couldn’t survive. I’m a business major.”

Keith grimaces, feeling sudden disgust at the mention of Shiro’s choice of study. He’s met plenty of business majors in the past few weeks, all needing some of his prerequisite classes to get through their programs. He doesn’t mean to classify, but each one fits in the categories of ‘cocky’, ‘assholey’, and ‘a pain in Keith’s ass’. Of all majors, this is the _last_ one he thought Shiro would pick.

“Are you any good at math?” Keith decides to change the subject, struggling to swallow the pill.

“I’m pretty alright,” He responds while merging onto the highway. The wind picks up, howling in Keith’s ears. The voices behind him ring louder, chatting away despite the change of environment. He turns to Shiro again as he continues to ramble on.

“I took a few more classes than I was supposed to,” he explains, his volume resting at the same level, “kind of grew to like it despite cursing it to hell in high school.”

“I’ve always liked math; the answer’s kind of just, right there in front of you. Nothing’s really ambiguous. You either do it right, or do it wrong.”

“True,” Shiro moves on to the next question on what Keith thinks is a never ending list, “do you like writing?”

“I do,” he shrugs, anxiousness somewhat at bay.

“Are you one of those people that likes it all?”

“I hate physics.” Keith spits, repressed memories of advanced high school physics classes reeling in his mind, “No one should be subjected to physics.”

“Amen.”

The conversation dissolves as quickly as it began, comfortable silence floating between the two men. Keith thinks it went well; he didn’t self-foil and humiliate himself in front of Shiro, which is a huge improvement from actively hiding away from him. He doesn’t speak again until Lance pipes up from the back of the vehicle.

“Shiro! Have you watched the second season of _Stranger Things_ yet?!”

“No—” Shiro looks away from the road for a moment, startling Keith as he points a threatening finger at the trio, “do not say another word!”

“Okay! Okay! I’m just asking!” Lance holds his hands up, displaying full innocence as Shiro’s eyes flicker back to the pair of headlights in front of him. Keith perks up at the mention of _Stranger Things_ . He’s been watching the show since the first season, accessing it through a random bootleg that he found. Since then, he’s been able to pay for his own Netflix account, but he _loves_ the show regardless.

“I love that show,” he sparks a new kind of conversation, glad it’s on something he’s much more comfortable talking about. Shiro’s eyes glisten as they widen, headlights reflecting against them.

“Really? Favorite character, go.”

“Eleven.”

“ _Oh god_.”

“What?” Keith’s stomach drops into a deep pit at the sound of Shiro’s distaste.

“Boo for genericism!” Pidge shouts from the middle seat. Their driver nods in agreement,

“Seriously! Everyone’s favorite character is Eleven.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he replies incredulously, “so you’re telling me the girl with psychokinetic abilities can’t be my favorite character because she’s _everyone’s_ favorite character.”

“Yes!” The four chime simultaneously.

“Wow. Well, I stand by my choice.”

“Hey,” Hunk reaches out to rest a hand on the back of his seat, “at least you don’t think demogorgons are real.”

“Who thinks they’re real?”

“ _Shiro_.”

“ _Really?_ ” Keith asks, a smile fighting to spread across his face as Shiro nods with a surprising amount of pride.

“Yep. They’re real. Convince me otherwise; it won’t work.”

“A demogorgon isn’t real, Shiro! We’ve been over this like, fifteen thousand times! The _name_ for it was taken from their Dungeons and Dragons campaign!” Pidge shouts. Keith is unsure of whether she’s actually frustrated, or just humoring Shiro, but he doesn’t have time to figure out before the argument continues to unfold.

“Did you see the piece _The Mirror_ wrote about a creature they found underwater in Indonesia?!” Shiro skillfully manages to maintain a steady, safe pace while flaining about dramatically. Keith watches him in awe, mouth slightly parted, “No? Didn’t think so! They’re gonna find them Pidge. And when they do, I’ll be laughing my ass off before I meet my inevitable death.”

“What makes you think you’ll die.”

“Because non-believers like you are the ones that run this country, _Pidge_.”

Shiro promises to show Keith the alleged video as they reach their designated exit, and he can’t believe just how invested he is in seeing. As they merge off the highway, the light breeze kisses Keith’s burning cheeks. And Shiro sits beside him, blissfully unaware of what he’s doing to his dithering heart.

 

iii.

Keith ends up with little regret by the end of the night. He and Shiro continued their exchange from the car, which carried throughout dinner, and on the drive back to campus, and the walk back to his room. His fingers were shaking when Shiro offered they exchange numbers.

Afterwards, he tries to talk to Shiro. For the sake of the people he’s chosen to be around, yes, but also to try something new. Shiro’s nice enough, and from the looks of it, the rest of the group has full confidence in his credibility as a friend. His kindness already has him blushing like a tomato. Perhaps, he’s worth a shot.

So, he takes the plunge. He tries to spend more time with him, and Pidge, and Hunk…and _Lance_.

Keith can’t be there all the time, his studies are relentless and constantly demanding his attention. No matter how important his agenda to make nice with others, getting booted from college isn’t an option.

On Fridays, they go out to dinner. It doesn’t matter where, just as long as they avoid the dining halls. They don’t exactly provide the most… _nutritious_ meals. Keith personally loves to eat there because, well, it’s _free_.

But Friday (deemed by Lance) is the day that the group decides to treat themselves. Whether that means walking across campus to the restaurant style halls, or hopping into Shiro’s car and going to whatever they found in town, Keith always tries to show up.

His presence is usually invited, and no one ever really minds if he talks or not. Shiro though, always makes sure to involve him in conversation. Whether they’re walking in town and they hang back, or if it’s right across the dinner table. He has a tendency to single him out, and when the heat goes to Keith’s head and tickles his sides, he ends up embarrassing himself every time.

Talking is hard; it always has been for Keith. It used to take him weeks when he was introduced to a new foster family. Albeit, he was younger, but there was no difference as an eighteen year old. He’s only grown to be more nonchalant about his silent tendencies, learned to blend in rather than make himself a beacon. Besides, where he doesn’t speak, he observes.

Keith finds himself staring at Shiro with pink fuzzy heart shaped goggles more than usual. He claims he wants to take it step by step, just become his friend and worry about the rest in the very distant future, but Shiro makes it _extremely_ difficult.

It’s little things that probably send him on the longest spirals. They’ll be driving to Chick-Fil-a, or Buffalo Wild Wings (Pidge insists they go almost every weekend), and Keith will be perched in the passenger seat with the most ridiculous thoughts spelling themselves out in his head. He’ll remember that Shiro’s full name is _Takashi Shirogane_ , and blush because of how right his name sounds. Or his eyes will travel to the taut muscles that Shiro’s’s been bestowed with, each flex sending a sensual chill down his spine.

Keith figured out somewhere down the line that Shiro’s hair is dyed white because of a dare, back in high school. At the mention of a time that far back, Keith mind begins to draw its own pictures, formulate its own concepts of what kind of person Shiro was back when _he_ was eighteen.

It was the weekend of his last prom; they went down to the beach for a cumulation of last hoorahs. After a particularly wild, drunken derivation of truth or dare— “But the truth questions were automatically turned into dares,” — he woke up with a blazing hangover and a sea of newly white hair to attend to.

The group made fun of him for the rest of that car ride, but Keith couldn’t help the warm fondness bubbling in the pit of his stomach. The story gave Shiro so much personality, a new layer peeled away.

It only worsens his case.

After one particular night at Buffalo Wild Wings, Pidge suggests they all trek up to Shiro’s dorm to relax for a bit. Hunk and Lance agree, already excited to be going somewhere other than their beds—though they aren’t obligated to sleep—and Keith rides along for the sake of not wanting to be the outlier. It’s strange, his sudden desire to be everywhere Shiro is. It’s only been a couple weeks, but he doesn’t want to be anywhere that the older man isn’t.

It’s a nonstop itch in his stomach that only stops when Shiro is within the vicinity. Around the clock, his mind blurs into constant repetitions: _Where’s Shiro? What is he thinking about?_

_Is he thinking about me?_

Keith doesn’t know why his mind constantly travels down a path filled with such self centered questions. Shiro is a busy person, set to graduate soon. Keith has to constantly batter his mind with the facts; Shiro is a twenty two year old man, ready to graduate and probably _not_ thinking about associating himself with teens afterwards, let alone _dating them_.

Keith’s eyes widen, and then he’s smacking himself in the face. Pidge and Lance look down the hallway, eyeing him curiously as Shiro pays no mind, unlocking his dorm room.

“Keith? You good?”

“Mmmhm?” A strangled sound measles it’s way out of his mouth, serving as enough to turn the two away from him. Enough time for him to curl into himself in slight peril.

_Dating?_

Keith doesn’t like Shiro. Not like that. He’s a good friend, and he’s very sweet and has been endlessly kind to him since they met, but _Keith doesn’t like Shiro_.

Not like that, at least.

They enter the room one by one, Keith being the very last.

Shiro’s room isn’t far from that of a typical college dorm. Posters hide any previous existence of the white walls, all his belongings sorted into random corners of the room. His desk overflows with books and notepads, his laptop hidden amongst the whirlwind of work. Pidge enters the room as if it’s her own, Lance and Hunk also finding  comfort on Shiro’s bed, mattress covered with plaid sheets.

Keith stands back against the doorway, feet behind the start of Shiro’s floor. His eyes choose to scan the posters that litter his room instead, picking the _Stranger Things_ one out of the lot.

“Is it too dirty?”

Goosebumps crawl up his spine and scatter along his skin as Shiro appears from behind. Keith glances up quickly only to look away, intimidated by the grin he wears.

“It’s not too dirty, no.” Keith stammers. It really isn’t; the young man had always assumed that Shiro was clean, but seeing truly is believing. He might even be cleaner than _Keith_.

“Good,” Shiro grins sheepishly, “I totally forgot to clean.”

The thought that Shiro’s ‘dirty’ could be Keith’s ‘clean’ hovers in his mind for a mere moment before he eventually takes that second step into the room. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Keith’s eyes flicker to the corner of the bedroom that was previously hidden. A tall pile of laundry conjures a feeling of ease amongst the fresh flickers of nerves upon entering Shiro’s room. It brings him back down to Earth, reminds him that Shiro isn’t as above him as he feels he is.

“Shiro, your view sucks,” Lance comments. Keith grimaces at the rudeness of his outburst, but Pidge and Hunk jump on the bandwagon faster than he expects.

“Pidge’s is way better,” Hunk says, “you can see the entire skyline.”

“Yep,” Pidge backs him proudly, “we can go if you want?”

Lance and Hunk agree with curt nods, slipping past Shiro and Keith and escaping out his open door. It isn’t until Shiro chuckles beside him, that he realizes they’re alone.

“They say freshman get the shit end of the stick.” He says, a snort following shortly after before he hoists himself up on his bed. He has to jump in order to reach the mattress, which surprises Keith more than anything. Shiro is fairly tall, maybe six foot two if he compares it to Lance, who sits at six feet exactly. His body lands with a thud, still maintaining eye contact with Keith. A chill ripples through his body when Shiro pats the vacant spot beside him.

“You can sit, if you’d like.”

Weary of his every movement, Keith opts to climb onto the bed instead of jumping. The possible results of him leaping onto Shiro’s bed are endless, and he refuses to test any of them out.

“My view may not be as great as Pidge’s, but I still think it’s pretty nice,” Shiro says, “I mean we got, posters—”

Keith’s head lolls to the _Stranger Things_ addition again,

“—I even brought my TV this year, and I brought this tall ass pile of—”

“Laundry?”

To that, Shiro chuckles. Low and amused. “I was gonna say XBox games, but I guess that works too.”

He leans back into his mattress, folding his hands atop his chest. Keith inches his body to lean against the adjacent wall, eyes flickering to Shiro’s body as his eyes close. White strands frame his face, the peaceful ease that surrounds him washing over Keith as well.

“It’s alright though. You’re the cool one, obviously.”

He’s sure that Shiro doesn’t mean it to single him out. It’s because he’s the only one that stayed. That’s more than obvious. Though his mental standing is at an impasse. The treacherous depths of his mind that want him to touch upon possibilities he’s yet to comprehend tell him otherwise. They tell him to take it as a compliment, a testament to the birth of romantic feelings that Keith shoves aside.

“Thanks.”

  
Instead, he lounges, content where they stand. As _friends_ , and friends only. Because _he’s_ the cool one. Cool, unproblematic, and unbeknownst to him, hanging by a thread as his eyes drink the sight of the muscles peeking out of Shiro’s t-shirt.

 

iv.

Keith’s kneecaps crush against each other, grinding uncomfortably as Lance shoves himself into the Uber XL. There’s enough seats for them all to sit comfortably, sure, but the brunette never fails to make the situation more complicated than it needs to be.

For a moment, Keith treks back to the events that lead him to the back of this Uber, black leather between his legs and uncomfortable air conditioning clogging his nose. But when he looks up at Shiro, who smiles as he gazes out the window, it comes back like a whirlwind of emotions.

_“We should go to the city!” Lance exclaimed, “It’s so close! Why haven’t we gone?”_

_“Because we’re college students, and we have work to do.” Pidge answered just as Keith would, if he had the patience to even bother. For the time being, ‘Fundamentals of Engineering I’ owned him and any comment he would have thrown at Lance by now. Not even Shiro, who sat comfortably on their floor, had drawn Keith away from his studies._

_“College isn’t just about working, and grades, and jobs, and diplomas. We’re supposed to be having fun too!”_

_“I don’t mind going to the city.”_

_For the first time in three hours, Keith’s chair swiveled in Shiro’s direction. His fingers, numb from nonstop writing, tapped along his thigh nervously as Shiro expressed his love of the idea._

_“It sounds fun. When were you thinking about going?”_   


_“We could do it Friday.” Pidge twirled one of her curls with her index finger._

_“If you do Friday can it be after my test?” Shiro asked._

_“That works.” Lance bounces on the balls of his feet before turning to an unsuspecting Keith, “What about you, roomie?”_

_“What about me?”_

_“…Do you wanna go? Or…”_

_Keith’s gaze flickered nervously between Shiro, and Lance. Both demanded something out of him; Lance, an answer, and Shiro—a_ different _kind of answer._

_“Nope. I’m alright.”_

_Lance snorted._

_“Party pooper.”_

It didn’t stay that way. Keith went from no, to yes, to maybe, to _never_ at least seven times that week. Once Friday was mere minutes, away, he agreed. He caved to the weakness lurking within, demanding that wherever Shiro is, Keith be there too. He always feels as if he misses out whenever the group adventures sans, well, _Keith_. Some form of jealousy he can’t put his finger on because he can’t figure out why he’s feeling it in the first place.

The afternoon arrives with swift urgency, Keith probably the most enthusiastic out of everyone. He just, doesn’t show it as much.

“Keith the city is fun. We live _right next to it_ , practically twelve minutes away, and you haven’t been _dying_ to go?!”

He glares directly at Lance to avoid Shiro’s attentive gaze, knowing that if he looks anywhere else he’ll be directed right back to him. Lance, as undeniably irritating as he is, serves as a good distraction.

Keith’s feelings can’t help but nudge him, even when he’s supposed to be having _fun_. Upon meeting the rest of their little group, he was indifferent. Lance was Lance, Pidge was Pidge, Hunk was Hunk. Nothing more, nothing less. They were just people.

But no; Shiro had to be the outlier.

Shiro wasn’t just Shiro when they first met. That was something that Keith knew from the get go. The way his heart fluttered upon first glance, on repeat like a broken record, was a primary indicator. He was someone that only the most generous of deities could bestow Keith. It was almost unfair, how an opportunity to know someone as magnificent as Shiro was given to the one person that could ruin it all for both of them.

“I’m excited, Lance. I just don’t show it.”

“It’s kind of hard to tell when you’re excited about things, Keith. It’s not like you smile, or laugh, or do _anything_ remotely emotional unless Shiro’s around.”

“H-Hey!”

He’s thankful it’s dark outside, because if anything would give away his boiling pot of complicated feelings, his crimson cheeks would.

“Keith just knows a good guy when he sees one, _Lance_.”

The group laughs, the relaxed atmosphere that once remained, returning swiftly. Preferably, the way Keith likes things to be. Especially when the attention isn’t on him. Lance has a tendency to do that, put him under a spotlight he doesn’t want to be in.

The neon city lights highlight features on Shiro’s face that Keith hadn’t observed. His jawline practically sparkles, the thin lines outlining his grin more evident than they were before. Even Shiro’s eyes held an extra exclusive glint, something that just made him more unreal than he was before.

A rainbow tinted sea of colors erupts in front of them as their Uber drives past a multi-colored luminous sign, and Keith can see it all through Shiro’s goddamned eyes.

He didn’t hate the city. How could he, when his first experience would be with the man that managed to make him stutter at a single glance.

They’re unleashed into the streets a few short minutes later. The moment Lance’s feet hit the pavement, he’s running.

“Lance?!” Pidge reaches out to grab him, but somehow, his hyperactivity makes him _faster_. Keith makes the conscious choice to stand beside Shiro and observe the ordeal from afar. He can’t bring himself to fight this one.

“What?! I know exactly where to go!” Lance says.

“And _where_ ,” the moment Pidge stresses it, his excitement is punctured, “is that?”

“There’s a party,” he points in the general direction of his destination, “remember?! It’s the perfect thing for us to do!”

At the mention of a party in the city, Keith wants the Uber to return and whisk him back to college. He hates all forms of parties; birthday parties, Christmas parties, Halloween parties, _college parties_ —

“I’m down, then! Why didn’t you just say so?”

 _Pidge? Of all people?_ Keith’s disbelief is evident when he cocks his head her her direction, to which she shrugs nonchalantly.

“What? There’s only one thing that Lance and I have in common. Other than being super smart, and Smash Bros., of course.”

“And what is that?” Keith dares to ask.

“Women.”

And while he’s unimpressed, Shiro speaks for the first time in awhile.

“She’s not wrong.”

“Look,” Hunk says, “I don’t mind carrying them over to get drunk. They can handle themselves, we’ll be fine. Shiro, I know you don’t like parties, so…”

This being news to Keith, it makes him blush when he finds out. Though every damn similarity they have makes him blush, so the instances are starting to blur.

“That’s fine.” Shiro only manages to make it worse, Keith looking between the two taller men in mental anguish. How was this able to get hashed out so quickly?!

“Keith and I can hang out for the night. I don’t mind.”

He doesn’t exactly sound _excited_ , either. Keith can’t handle the pback and forth as the ball goes to Hunk again.

“Good, that’s great, I guess.” He shrugs, “So much for a trip _together.”_

“Shit always hits the fan once Lance hears about a party,” Shiro shrugs in return, “you learn to roll with the punches.”

“Right you are, my man.” Hunk tosses Shiro a knowing look before tipping his head down to acknowledge Keith.

“See you guys later, yeah? Stay safe!”

And just like that, their so called beloved trip disbands. Keith and Shiro to their own devices, and the triumphant trio on a journey for alcohol and wasted times.

But it isn’t the latter that does him in. It’s when Shiro’s head lolls to the side, an easy smile on his face. They’re _alone_.

Keith, and Shiro.

To their _own devices._

“I honestly sensed this would happen,” Shiro shrugs nonchalantly, beginning to turn and walk ahead, Keith scrambling behind.

“What, Lance leaving?”

“Yeah,” He snorts, “I love him, but kid’s got a one track mind.”

 _Not wrong,_ he thinks.

“Hey, you hungry?”

Keith looks up at him, eager to shout ‘ _YES, I’M FUCKING STARVING!_ ’, but remembers the small little tingle in his heart that would be humiliated if he dared to choose that path.

“Yeah, I could go for some food,” he says, “but it’s really expensive, are you sure?”

“Oh don’t worry about it,” Shiro pats his front pocket, “I got it.”

Keith’s mind immediately travels to date territory, but he squabbles the dangerous assumption before it can manifest into something worse.

“No, I can’t let you do that,” he says, “we both came to the city with money, let me.”

“I insist,” Shiro rejects Keith’s rejection, and he pouts upon realizing, “listen, it’s no biggie. I got it, yeah?”

“I mean…” he releases a pent up breath, “sure, yeah. You got it.”

_Date territory._

It isn’t until they come along a concessions stand that Keith’s attention is tugged to anything other than the man that strolls casually beside him.

“Do you think they put sausages in their burritos?” Keith says, the words only meant to stay in his head. When he sees the peculiar glance flickering between him and the menu plastered onto the grey food truck, he realizes his blunder.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, “t-that was supposed to be in my head.”

“But now I’m wondering if they do.” Shiro mused, to Keith’s surprise.

“You are?”

“Well _duh_.”

He laughs, looking back at the menu. “It’s not on there, but I _smell it_ , you know?”

“No I know exactly what you mean.”

Shiro’s hand meets Keith’s shoulder and he tenses, staring up at him as he leans closer.

“We gotta ask.”

Keith can only nod with him this close. The way Shiro approaches every possible circumstance head on is as threatening as it is endearing. He doesn’t seem to be afraid of any feat.

“Excuse me,” Shiro calls out, starling Keith, and the man working the truck. He seems to be in his twenties, just like Shiro, thought he looks less put together.

“I know it’s the middle of the uh, dinner rush? But, do you have breakfast burritos?!”

The man nods slowly, blond hair swaying back and forth on top of his head, the thin strands like leaves at the end of their days.

“Be right back,” Shiro grins, rubbing into his shoulder with the pad of his thumb before dashing off to get them breakfast burritos at nine o’clock at night. A true knight.

The burrito is indescribably delicious. At some point between chews, he and Shiro agree that the delicacy was probably frozen before provided to them. Shiro ranks it between McDonalds, and the ones his grandfather used to make at home, while Keith ranks it as his best, being that he’s never _had_ a breakfast burrito.

“You’ve never had a breakfast burrito?” Shiro asks, “I thought you did! You mentioned sausages.”

“I know, but not _breakfast_ sausages. Like, I dunno,” Keith digs his teeth into his food once more, manners be damned, “Italian sausages, or something. I would have even taken a hot dog sausage.”

Shiro looks visibly hurt, a faux, pained expression masking childlike intentions. Keith remembers there’s food in his mouth when he has to stop himself from spitting it out, laughter fighting to break free from it’s chamber.

“I swear, I love breakfast burritos now!” He manages to say, “My expectations were just set for something else.”

“Yeah, whatever,” says Shiro. Keith can still see a smile hiding behind his pout. It’s makes him feel warm, like he’s drinking red wine out of the bottle.

They’re free to do whatever they please, really. Keith is used to the freedom they have in college, but with so much more at their fingertips, it’s like he’s pulling up in front of his dorm all over again.

Shiro drags them to various places; candy stores, art exhibits of all sorts, whatever street show he can manage to throw his money at. The typical city-goer would probably be angry with his constant pit stops, but Keith finds himself enjoying his frantic tendencies more than anything. To see a man seek and find joy in practically everything is something so unknown to Keith. That, the blush that keeps creeping up to his cheeks, and the swirling sensation of his stomach.

None of the feelings have words that he can use to label them.

Well, there’s _one_.

But Keith can’t use that one. It’s too soon; he just doesn’t understand what’s going on. It’s normal to think you’re feeling one thing, but it’s actually something else.

So no. It’s not, _that._

But he does want to slot his hand through the space between his arm and his ribcage, where his hand rests in his pocket. Wrap around his arm, rest his head along the slope of his shoulder…

Shiro always asks whether Keith wants to stop in and look somewhere, or if he’s still hungry. He rejects it all, knowing he doesn’t want Shiro spending any more money on him. Even with his own cash, he has a feeling Shiro won’t budge on his ‘I’ll pay for everything’ mentality.

It takes a couple hours of window shopping until the two of them have to sit down. Shiro finds them a nice, secluded area near the street. It’s a small park, surrounded by thick trees with fairy lights like the ones on Lance’s side of the room. They give off a glow that Keith thinks is a bit more intimate than he’d like, considering who he’s with, and the specific feelings he’s trying to escape with all his might.

“You ready to go? You look tired?”

Keith swears he sees his hand reach to touch, but retracts before he can be sure. Why can’t he just fucking— _do it—_ no. He doesn’t want that. Shiro can…keep his hand to himself…

“Yeah, I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll call the Uber, yeah.”

Keith wonders what would happen if he entertains the other side of his thought process. Simply, explored the possibility of _that_.

Shiro’s lips glisten when his tongue passes over them, intent focus placed on whatever text he’s sending. Keith’s eyes would have been drawn to the phone, jealous of whoever he’s texting—but he can’t bring himself to this time.

The urge to kiss Shiro is dangerous at this time of night. He’s kissed plenty of people of before, though it’s been a long time since he’s _wanted_ to. Dares among acquaintances he knew he’d never see again and girls who wanted him to be their first kiss for reasons he had no interest in knowing, sure, but _never_ the heart wrenching desire to initiate.

Shiro locks his phone, Keith’s eyes following every move before he’s looking directly at him.

“Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, “perfect.”

They sit in silence, the frontal scenery suddenly quite entertaining. There’s a few glances at phones, then each other, but it all turns back to the trees and lights strung before them. Keith’s logic betrays him. He doesn’t know what the latter is thinking about.

“Uber should be here soon,” Shiro hums for the first time since they last spoke, twenty minutes ago, “then we can get some damn sleep.”

“Right,” Keith laughs awkwardly, but Shiro doesn’t seem to flinch in the slightest. He can’t read the situation, and desperately wishes he could. Wishes he could look into the vast depths of Shiro’s mind and just figure out whether he should take the plunge or not.

Though he knows Shiro well, and there aren’t any discrepancies between them (he _thinks_ ), he doesn’t know what he would do if he just went for it, kissed him with everything he has.

The thought alone makes him tingle, and the fact that he’s _right here_ , where everything is right except for the uncertain, makes him want to cry.

“You know,” Shiro speaks a moment later, and Keith panics, still in between kissing him and running away, “I’m happy I met you. You’re really cool, Keith. I mean, not to say the others _aren’t_ cool, because they are. I’ve been friends with them for years.”

“Yeah…”

His heart slowly inches up his throat, wedging itself within his windpipe.

“But I dunno, you’re just… different? Not in a good or bad way, just, in a special way?”

Keith ignores the good or bad comment, despite his desire to be the best.

“I’m just glad we met,” Shiro laughs for a brief moment, “I’m sorry if that was weird, uh, but I just wanted to say something.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it…”

Shiro’s head turns to grin down at him, chin slightly pointed, eyes soft as a ‘Shakers Bar’ sign reflects off of them. Keith, not having made up his mind, but letting his heart take the wheel, parts his lips.

Their eye contact fails to cease, even when Keith props himself on the bench with his knee to reach Shiro’s face. The ghost of a hand on his hip makes itself known when his eyes flutter shut, the city sounds circling down their drain. For a moment, things move in slow motion. He’s flying too close to the sun, but the sun is _Shiro_ and he wants to bathe in everything he has.

And he’s close. _So close._ He can practically feel the plump of Shiro’s bottom lip nudging into his, the hands he’s watched do everything under the sun except _touch_ him, _finally_ make themselves useful.

But the Uber pulled up at the curb two minutes ago, and Keith’s lips barely made it halfway.

“Hey! Did you order an Uber?!”

The drawback is devastating; Keith’s frail heart might as well have shattered when Shiro’s face drops in horror. The gap of the unknown has only expanded and _God,_ Keith shouldn’t have taken the plunge. Both of them turn to the Uber hastily, piling themselves into the car.

“Hi, yes, I ordered an Uber. My name is Takashi Shirogane…”

Keith tries not to yank his hair out and scream until he can’t breathe when Shiro sits across from him, turning his legs inward and keeping his eyes trained on the window beside him. He shouldn’t have done it; he shouldn’t have tried, he shouldn’t have _thought_ that that was acceptable on any terms. To have completely screwed himself out of any progressive relationship with Shiro is an unbelievable feat; one that he sadly _knew_ he’d accomplish at some point.

The drive home is more than miserable. The Uber passes the burrito stand the pair had stopped at. His chest constricts when he tries to fight back the beginnings of tears.

The neon signs still shine as brightly as they did when they came, but they only taunt and tease Keith as they maneuver their way past parked cars and abnormal traffic. Their driver is faster than the last, which breaks Keith even more as he realizes his possible last minutes with Shiro are dwindling away at twice the normal speed.

The heart of the city is the only roadblock really keeping them from hightailing it back to GPI. Other than the low hum of  Cardi B and Drake, the vehicle is silent as it makes its way up the winding hill to their dorms. Shiro has yet to say a word after sorting out addresses with their driver. Keith’s mouth can barely open, let alone speak. So he just lets the silence happen.

The Uber driver drops them off in front of Keith’s dorm instead of Shiro’s by accident, but they send him off anyway, too tired to have to direct him anywhere else.

Keith prepares for the worst once the driver disappears down the street. He’d been mentally rehearsing his final goodbyes in the car, a full blown boulder sitting in his gut as Shiro progressively scooted further away from him in the small space they were allotted.

Keith lets out a ragged sigh. “Look, Shiro I—”

“Do you wanna do breakfast tomorrow? I heard there’s unlimited pancakes, or something like that.”

 _Breakfast?_ Breakfast means seeing Shiro again.

“B-Breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Shiro’s brows furrow, as if the events in New York City hadn’t transpired, “do you have a morning class? I don’t remember if—”

“No—no! Breakfast works! Yeah, that’s perfect.”

It’s all the same. The same shiny disposition, the same mannerisms (minus the car, but who gives a shit about the car now?), _everything_. Miraculously, Keith might have damn well saved himself from his own personal hell.

Relief holds a much deeper meaning than before as Keith and Shiro exchange smiles and goodbyes. His heart had returned to it’s pedestal, every step he takes up to his room lighter than clouds. The situation had flipped drastically, and it’s here that Keith realizes he _may_ have overreacted. Maybe Shiro didn’t see it as a kiss. Maybe he thought that Keith was going to brush something off his shoulder, or whisper in his ear.

Which is probably the farthest stretch he has in his system, but though he’s exhausted, there’s nothing that could possibly wipe away the smile on his face. His teeth peek out from behind his top lip, which he assumes looks obnoxious, but he can see Shiro tomorrow. At the ass crack of dawn, sure, but it’s not never. And Keith can deal with that.

He hadn’t shattered the glass, stained his chances. Shiro still wanted to be his friend, and he wasn’t going to fuck that up again.

He doesn’t like Shiro. Shiro doesn’t like him like that, so he won’t. Keith just has to stop, somehow. And he will.

Today was a mistake; he’s sure of it. He thinks.

When Keith reaches his room, using the energy he has left to maneuver the lock and push the door open, all he can do is fall back against the wood. Despite all his pent up resentment to his dangerous impulse of the night, he can’t resist letting his fingertips trace his lips in longing.

He was so close. _So. Close._

It’s a crush. And it _can’t be_.

_Holy shit._

 

v.

“Happy birthday to you…”

Keith’s dreaming of Shiro’s hands against his abdomen, rising up to his chest as his head falls back on the man’s firm shoulder when Lance ruins the moment.

“Happy birthday to you…”

Groggy eyes adjust to the sunlight bleating through his window, the pungent smell of mint toothpaste bringing him down from the fantasy once and for all.

“Happy birthday dear _Keith_ …”

 _Wait_.

“Happy Birthday to—”

Keith grabs his wrist, eyes snapping open with rage. “If you finish that song, I’ll punch your face in.”

“Hey! Not the face!” Lance exclaims, bounding away from his bed.

“Go _away_ .” He rolls over, tucking himself further in his sheets. October twenty third. How had he forgotten his birthday was coming up. More importantly, how had _Lance_ found out?

“How did you even figure it out?!”

“The ‘Here’s Your New Roommate!’ email,” Lance answers, matter-of-fact. Keith hears the familiar zip and jingle of his backpack before he speaks again. “I read all the emails I get, unlike some people.”

“S’all spam,” Keith mutters into his pillow.

“I’m going to the mall with Pidge and Shiro.”

Keith tenses. His body tells him to get out of bed and get dressed, suck up every ounce of time with Shiro that he can get. But his brain, reminds him that it’s the one day he’s dedicated to isolating himself. For good, proven reason.

“I’m good.”

“You’re _good?_ ”

Keith turns to Lance, an angry gleam still embedded in his eyes.

“Yeah. I’m _good_.”

He knows his roommate is rolling his eyes, probably considering him a nuisance and a waste of time. But he doesn’t want to deal with it, or anyone today. That includes the rainbows and glitter that make themselves present in the presence of Shiro.

“Whatever. See you later.”

The door shuts, the slide of their lock signifying peace and quiet. Keith groans as he flings himself into his pillows, already unsatisfied with the beginning of his day.

The last good birthday Keith had was probably the day he was born, rather than any year afterwards. When people asked, he usually left it open ended. This is majorly because the human imagination can only reach the following conclusions:

One: Keith never got any presents when he was little. Realistically speaking, when he opens his eyes every morning, he sees that as the real gift. Keith has never been the materialistic type.

Two: His parents never celebrated birthdays, so in result, Keith doesn’t either. Which for the record is false; Keith’s guardians usually got switched out around this time (unruly behavior lead to one thing, then the next) and all of them _loved_ birthdays.

Three: Keith just doesn’t have a heart. Which he can live with, for the most part. He has a heart, he knows that much. It’s a matter of what, and who it beats for.

So he’ll deal with the assumptions, roll with the punches if it means that he’ll never have to talk about it. To anyone. _Ever_.

He rolls over, letting sleep take over until the night creeps upon their college campus.

 

* * *

When Lance returns around five o’clock, a multitude of shopping bags in his hands and a growing smile on his face, Keith’s stomach curls. It’s the face of a man who has a plan.

“Lance…” Keith treads carefully.  
  
“Hey dude.” Lance drops all the bags on his bed before tangling his fingers together and stretching backwards, “So I went a _little_ crazy, but I don’t think the damage was that bad.”

“Oh,” He nods, sinking back into the bed he’d made his home for the day. _Maybe I was wrong_ , he thinks as Lance circles the heaping pile of purchases to sit on his bed.

“So I have a proposition.”

 _There it is_.

“What?” Keith whines, “Lance I don’t want to do anything! I never have, I never will! It’s not my thing! If you really want to do something, just let me rest!”

“But you have to eat, right?”

Keith’s head cocks to the side, nodding carefully.

“Yes…”

“So let me at least pay for your food. T-That’s _all_ I’m asking for. You, me, Pidge, Hunk and Shiro. Just like it’s a normal Monday. We go out to dinner, and I pay for your check. Deal?”

Keith purses his lips, eyes trained on Lance who honestly seems _desperate_ for this. Even adding _Shiro_ into the calculation to ease his odds. It’s working, but it’s sneaky.

“Why do you want to do something for my birthday so badly, anyway?”

“Because you may be fucking weird, but it’s the day you were _born_ Keith. Not every has the privilege to celebrate that.”

“Fine,” he eventually agrees, “let’s go.”

“Yes!” Lance pumps his fists in the air before grabbing his keys, “Yes, yes, yes!”

Keith rolls his eyes, a small smile easing its way onto his face. Dinner wouldn’t be bad. At the mention, his stomach growls for a burger and fries, a pleasantry he  hadn’t treated himself to in awhile.

“We have to go to the diner if we’re doing this, Lance!”

“Whatever!”

* * *

Dinner isn’t bad. Lance provides, just as he said he would. Plus (he won’t admit this out loud, but), it’s nice to see the others after the isolation he subjected himself to. Pidge had talked to her rich, playboy genius brother, and told some of the various stories he told her, which proved to be good entertainment.

Hunk snuck in something new they had him make at his culinary institute, and Keith swears the pasta dish was better than anything he could have gotten at the diner. Even judging off the small forkful he got, he knows there’s nothing that could better.

Lance stays quiet, for the most part, only really speaking up when Hunk acknowledges him and he zines back into the conversation, blush tinted on his face as Pidge teases him for thinking of some girl he met in the city. Keith wonders if the silence is a birthday present in disguise, or if somethings really wrong. But when Lance eventually goes back to laughing and acting up a storm, he reminds himself that he’s fine.

He and Shiro had seen each other a multitude of times after the city trip, so it didn’t feel too unfamiliar when they finally locked eyes again. Things had tamed from that oh so dramatic night on the exterior, but Keith’s chest still flurries with confusion, stemmed from miscommunication and a misplaced hope that he can’t seem to shake.

Their night comes to a close due to a weather warning straight from the university, inclement winds deeming any place other than dormitories too dangerous to be in or around. All students were to return to their rooms for the night, or stay with friends for the night.

They were kicked from the diner as soon as they finished eating, the small group of three joke and galavant through the roaring winds like no one’s business in front of Keith. Shiro who lingered behind to hold the door for another group leaving with them.

Normally, Keith would have waited for him, but he got sick easily. And of all the possible things to make him i’ll, it wasn’t going to be fucking _wind_.

“Keith?!”

But, his voice drags him back. Like it always has. A dangerous string that only he can control.

The wind whips at Keith’s cheeks, already dusted red before he can even get a chance to look at Shiro. He’s bearing all his teeth, but there’s a strain of nervousness. Keith can spot it, observing the small twitch at the corner of his mouth. His smile disappears almost immediately before reaching into his pockets.

“I got you something…if I could just…” he starts muttering to himself as Keith’s eyes widen in shock. _Shiro got him something?_ When was this planned? When did he get the time? He doesn’t recall telling him when he was born, and wonders whether someone in the meddling trio  (Lance, probably) spilled the beans. Having Shiro acknowledge his birthday as if it’s a requirement is the last thing he wants.

Just as he’s planning to reject the gift entirely, Shiro resurfaces from his search with a petite Hot Topic bag between his fingers.

“Got it!” He cheers, smile unfaltering as he gifts it to him, “I thought of you the second I saw it.”

With anxious hands, Keith opens the bag to reveal a gift he’d _never_ expected from Shiro. Though he can’t really say that now, judging from how long they’ve known each other.

Keith takes out a thick plastic necklace tag, his head cocking to the side despite the heavy wind tousling his hair about as he reads the words written on the circular charm.

 _‘Mouth-Breather’_.

“ _Mouth-Breather_ ,” he chuckles to himself, vision panning out to see Shiro grinning even wider, white wisps of hair tragically out of place.

“Do you like it?” He asks enthusiastically.

“I _love_ it,” Keith replies, his affection for the little trinket unfiltered, “this is probably the most situationally ironic birthday present I’ve ever gotten!”

He has to shout over the rough wind to be heard, but Shiro doesn’t seem to be bothered by the minor inconvenience.

“Why is everything about English class with you?!”

Keith groans, still beaming as he finds himself reaching out to wrap his arms around Shiro’s torso tightly. It isn’t until the latter folds over, burying his nose into his hair and resting his hands on his lower back, that Keith realizes that he just voluntarily hugged Shiro.

He squeezes his eyes shut, heart swirling pleasantly in the presence of his warmth before they regretfully have to pull apart. Keith can still feel small sparks on his exposed skin even after the hug concludes.

“Thank you,” he repeats, quieter as the wind ceases it’s madness, “I mean it.”

“It was no biggie—d-do you want me to put it on?”

Keith’s neck begins to fizzle, body tense and heartbeat in his ears. _He wants to_ what _?_

“H-Huh?”

“Put it on? I-I can put it on for you!”

He nods, at a loss of any other sort of response. Shiro makes his move quickly, hand enclosing around his as he takes the necklace back for a brief moment. Keith hears the familiar tearing of the flimsy plastic and turns to watch him unravel the necklace.

“This is a lot shorter than I thought it was gonna be!” he laughs, but Keith can’t hear it’s cheerful ring.

“It’s okay!” He calls out, “I have a small neck!”

“You don’t, but I’ll let it slide!”

Keith rolls his eyes just as quickly as his breathing stills, close to nothing as Shiro drapes the jewelry around his neck. The metallic texture is cold on his blazing skin. The hulking frame of Shiro’s body is more than present behind him. Shiro clasps the necklace on with ease, stepping back to look back at his work.

“There,” he says. The wind calms, the trees stop shaking, and Keith takes a moment to admire the new addition to his outfit. Cheap, yet priceless as it comes from Shiro’s unmasked kindness.

He can’t remember the last gift that meant this much to him.

“Fits,” he murmurs, at a loss of words otherwise.

“I was nervous it wouldn’t. Being that that store is primarily for adolescent teens.”

Keith snorts and Shiro grins down at him, satisfied with his crack. He takes note of the harsh reality that if Lance said that, he would have smacked him on the arm.

“We should probably catch up,” he says, turning abruptly, “the others are probably wondering where we are. Plus, we gotta best the wind.”

“Right.”

Keith hears Shiro’s hurried footsteps falling behind his and smiles to himself, twiddling with his new charm.

Hopeless. He’s hopeless.

 

* * *

“You look really happy right now.”

Keith strolls into his room around ten minutes after Lance, Hunk and Pidge. The three of them have already seemed to make themselves comfortable, Lance dressed in one of his lounge pants and a grey tank, while the other two have taken their shoes off and kicked them to Keith’s side of the room where they usually reside. He toes off his sneakers with delightful ease, stealing a glance at the green glow of the microwave clock. 12:06. His birthday is officially over, but for the first time in years, it feels like it’s just beginning.

“Is it a crime to be happy?” Keith dismisses the attitude Lance tosses him and decides to respond to the question.

“Guys! Back me up here! He isn’t even complaining that you’re here!”

Pidge and Hunk rise from the platter of chips they stole from the RAs at the front desk. They continue to munch, despite Lance’s demands.

“Listen,” Pidge swallows a large mouthful, “he’s right, but we all know it’s about Shiro.”

Keith reaches out to grab his wooden chair with a raise of his eyebrows, subtly covering his nerves. The legs scratch against the ground, emitting that ugly sound they all despise before he sits down.

“It’s not about Shiro,” he replies, a light buzz irritating his eardrums.

“Yes it _is_. You know, I was with him when he was shopping for that necklace.”

“You were?”

“So was I!” Lance exclaims, climbing onto his bed, “I’m so sorry to say this, but he so has a crush on you.”

“He—He doesn’t.”

They’re just friends. Shiro is twenty-two, set to graduate with incredible opportunities lined up for him. His mind isn’t focused on pursuing a relationship with someone like Keith. A college freshman flailing in the midst of adulthood while trying to get on a path that will lead him to success. Keith is a mess. Shiro isn’t.

“Why do you say he doesn’t?” Hunk shifts his position in Lance’s bed, “I can see it. He really does care for you Keith.”

“He _doesn’t_.”

“Keith,” Lance takes up a serious tone to match his _very_ serious expression, “you mean to tell me that Shiro, who has been our friend for _years_ and never thought to get us presents, got _you_ one because y’all are destined to be best buds?”

“Shiro’s never gotten you any presents?” Keith took Shiro for someone that _always_ got presents. His heart is so large, filled with love for everyone he comes across. Presents seemed like a given.

“Nope. Not even Matt,” Pidge cuts in smartly, “and they’ve been friends for _years._ ”

“Years?”

“Years.”

Keith still doesn’t believe it. But the part of him that loves to dream beyond his limits, urges them on.

“Why else…?”

“Well,” Lance leans against his desk smugly, as if he’s got all the facts in a bullet point list, “I, for one, saw you two almost kiss.”

Keith blushes wildly as Pidge shouts, spraying chips all over the room like they do in the cartoons. Hunk squeals as well, bringing his hands up to his mouth like a little girl, but all Keith can focus on is the inferno of daggers he’s throwing at his roommate.

Lance pouts at him, playing innocent with a shrug.

“What?”

“You _saw us?!_ ” Keith seethes, coming through his memories in the city and not recalling a single moment where he saw Lance leave the club, “What?! When—”

“ _Relax_ , god. It was with good intentions, I swear!”

“ _Explain._ ”

“Yes!” Pidge crosses her petite legs, “I wanna hear this love story unfold.”

Hunk follows suit, and Keith just wants the ground to swallow him whole. The ‘almost kiss’ was dreadful enough. The drive back to campus wasn’t even as bad, but _Lance_ retelling the tale from his skewed perspective makes him physically sick.

“Okay,” Lance rubs his hands together, pleased with an engaged audience, “so I step out for a moment to make sure everyone is accounted for, right? Hunk is on the dance floor, Pidge is lounging with some chicks she met, but no Keith and Shiro!”

“Those girls were lovely…”

“Pidge, I’m not done.”

She rolls her eyes as Lance takes control of the narrative back. “So I step out, and walk the streets a bit to make sure they’re at least _around_ . I pass the Starbucks, the photo booth, and _then_ I find them sitting  off by some benches. I was gonna call out, holler a bit in my slight tipsy state, but Keith’s looking at Shiro with these eyes.”

“What eyes?” Keith snorts.

“ _Sex eyes_ .” Lance responds. He blinks before turning to Keith with his own version of the alleged ‘ _sex eyes_ ’. His throat tightens as Lance throws his hands over his shoulders, dragging his fingertips along the cloth of his t-shirt.

“I do _not_ want to have sex with Shiro!”

He’s lying straight through his teeth. The thought of any form of sexual activity with a man that handsome makes his knees wobble.

“That’s not the point! Okay, maybe not sex eyes, but _eyes_ Keith. You wanted something. Your body was turned, you leaned up, Shiro nosed down, and the Uber beat you to the punch.”

Keith’s brows furrow as he recalls the night, how the honking scared him right out of taking the plunge. Shiro seemed to be fine with the whole thing, but even after today, there’s still a _gut_ feeling that he fucked up, and that he’s just shoving it aside.

“Keith you should have kissed him anyway.” Pidge says, “How cliche of you to stop the second you’re interrupted.”

“It was a horn! It scared me!”

Everyone in the room begins to laugh as he fights angry tears, stomach curling in fear.

“Look l-listen! I was just, I was tired. I didn’t mean to kiss him. O-Or try to. I didn’t kiss him.”

“But you _wanted to_ …”

Keith wants to kick everyone out. His mind is that of a goddamn _hurricane_ , heart thumping at a thousand different rates all at once. The thin line that separates his friendship and his wildest fantasies are blurring. Something that can _never_ happen. The last time it did, Keith almost lost it all.

“Okay okay,” he chants, “can you guys just leave?”

“Wait, what? Are you kidding—”

“There’s too much!” He begs, “I can’t think, and I just need a second.”

“What do you think Lance? It’s your room too.”

Keith sighs exhaustedly at the ‘it’s your room too’ argument. He can’t count how many times it’s been used against him when it came to him wanting to be alone. He’d leave the room if he wanted to; but for now he wants to stay curled in his sheet, protected by the warmth, shielded from his troubles.

Keith loves his bed.

“It’s fine, Pidge. We can just go to your room and keep watching _Adventure Time_. Order some pizza, it’ll be fun.”

“What? But Lance—”

Keith is right there next to Pidge, beyond shock as Lance willingly surrenders the room. The brunette nods, confirming his statement, and that Keith’s ears aren’t _lying_ to him.

He’s frozen in place, much like the statues out in the main quad, as Lance packs up a bag for the night. Hunk and Pidge bid Keith adieu with their notorious cheeriness, shutting the door behind them as they leave the two roommates to themselves.

“Dude, you didn’t have to—” Keith automatically feels bad, watching Lance pack his things for a night away with such a plain expression written upon his features. He almost wants to take it back, the desire for peace and quiet. No matter how much he really does need it. But Lance interrupts him with a nonchalant wave of his hand, zipping his bag and grabbing his laptop.

“Nah, it’s alright Kogane. I might have gone a bit too far this time.”

It’s the closest Lance has ever come to an apology. Keith has to stop his jaw from dropping, out of respect.

“Enjoy the room, yeah?”

“But Lance—”

“But I have to ask, before I leave,” he wags his index finger in the air, “Keith. Do you like Shiro?”

“Lance, I don’t—”

“Because if you do, Keith? It’s _okay_. We’ll support you. Shiro isn’t a bad guy!”

“Lance.” Keith inhaled sharply through his nose, “I just, need a moment. Like, I need a _lot_ of moments.”

“Take as many as you need, then.”

His fingers curl around the edge of the door, pulling it open and making his exit. Keith turns away from the doorway as soon as it shuts, sprawling his hands over his eyes, nose, and mouth. Holy _shit_ —

A click interrupts his internal turmoil, Lance snaking through the small opening he’s created for himself.

“I forgot my laptop,” he whispers, tiptoeing to his desk and snatching it out of his bottom desk drawer before dashing away for a second time.

The door locks this time, leaving Keith in complete solitude with his thoughts. Thoughts that he had to listen to, whether he wanted to hear them or not.

 _Great…_ he thinks to himself, fingering the new chain in his hands.

_Why me, Shiro?_

  


vi.

When Keith wakes up the next morning, Lance is in bed, snoring away, curled tightly in his linen sheets. He wonders what time his loudmouth of a roommate returned. That, and how he managed to get home without waking him up.

Must be that ‘Cuban stealth’ he talks of constantly.

Keith had completely forgotten about the newest addition to his attire, skin crawling when his necklace slides off of his bare back.

The memories from last night come to him like little pockets of time, bursting with each step he takes: a little pacing, a little groaning, a little staring (at his necklace, not Shiro. Shiro doesn’t have Instagram), and though Keith fought it off for as long as he could, a few tears as well.

He’s in a position that he _wants_ to pursue. There’s no doubt that he might have feelings for Shiro.

 _Might_. He laughs quietly to himself, eyes still trained on his roommate’s lifeless body. He said it himself yesterday; he’s hopeless. It’s a matter of whether he surrenders and accepts, or if he pushes it down with the other multitude of feelings he’s chosen to ignore.

Lance stirs the moment he decides to turn back and go to sleep. Keith knows there’s no falling asleep after this; Lance has the day off, and there’s no way he’s gonna leave the room.

“Mmm,” an obnoxious groan rises from his body as his back arcs off the bed. Per usual, the (now) nineteen year old waits for the theatrics to reach an end before greeting him.  
  
“Good morning.”   
  
“Hey,” Lance smacks his lips together, “how was last night? Clear head?”   
  
“Not at all.” Keith responds.   
  
“Really? You had an entire night, and you didn’t figure out a feeling as deep as affection? Keith, you must be slacking.”   
  
He rolls his eyes at the sarcasm as he sits up in bed.   
  
“What are you trying to say?”   
  
“You tried to force a feeling you _know_ you have, out of your system in a night. You can like Shiro, Keith. I thought you would have come to your senses, but you’ve left me no choice.”   
  
“What? Left you no—”   
  
“We’re going on a drive. I’ll pay.”   
  
Keith gives Lance the most incredulous look he can muster, but the boy is dead serious, having it written all over his face. His body faces Keith’s squarely, not to the side as it usually is. It’s a confrontation. He means it.   
  
This is an intervention.   
  
“Grab your key on the way out.”

 

* * *

Keith hasn’t really found it essential to travel about their college town. It’s his less explorative side of him that takes charge in matters such as those.  
  
He doesn’t know of the town that the driver is taking them to, but Lance seems to know each building by name, including the people that worked inside. It makes him wonder just what Lance does outside of class, and whether he even _goes_ or not.   
  
When their Uber pulls up at a frozen yogurt establishment, the excitement ends as quickly as it arose. Keith takes out his wallet quick a quick swipe of his hand, surging up to the frontal area of the car.   
  
“How much do you have to pay you up front to take me back to Garrison Poly—”

“Nope! No no, let’s go!”  
  
Lance grabs Keith’s bicep with a strength he didn’t know laid underneath his scrawny exterior, dragging him out of the Uber and nodding at the driver.   
  
“Goodbye! Have a great day!”   
  
With that, Keith’s escape disappears down the strip, merging back into the highway and leaving him in front of the one place he doesn’t want to be at, along with the one person he doesn’t want to be with.   
  
“Why did you drag us here?” He rips his hand from Lance’s, who proceeds to roll his eyes.   
  
“I took you to a frozen yogurt place because frozen yogurt makes everyone happy. And, lowkey, I wanted some.”   
  
He pushes the door open, barely holding it for Kith before he’s running to the counter, greeted by an overly cheerful cashier and a variant of flavors that Keith’s sure Lance will love.   
  
The store is quaint, a comforting feel coming from the rainbow themed decorations. Keith enjoys the presence of colors, enjoys the variety. Colors pop out; they’re visible, they’re fun, and they make him feel a bit more lighthearted than his usual...is it angst? He never saw it as angst...   
  
Maybe everyone else does...   
  
Once Lance is situated, ice cream (or *frozen yogurt*, it’s all the same anyway) and all, the true purpose of their visit is revealed.   
  
“I’ve learned, from having many crushes, that a song usually does the speaking for you.”   
  
Music, of course. Lance grew up in a big family, he knows this. All musicians, singers, or actors. The McClain family has that dramatic flare to them that passed through the entire family tree. The fact that Lance is a biology major is a mystery yet to be solved.   
  
“I don’t follow,” Keith says.   
  
“You’ve never done that before? You’ve never heard a song, and immediately connected it to someone you… _have you_ liked anyone before?”   
  
“I have, but it’s not like that. I don’t like Shiro, I can’t. We’ve become good friends! What if he doesn’t like me that way, and it ruins everything?”   
  
Horror floods Keith’s veins.   
  
“What if he’s not even _gay_ —”

“Let me stop you right there,” Lance holds his hand up, “he’s gay. Very, very homosexual. And honestly, Keith? He might just like you too. He treats you differently, we all see that.”  
  
“He said I was cool, and that he was glad we met in the city,” Keith references back to the trip they’d taken weeks ago, “since then, it’s been chill. But he just…came out with it!”   
  
“Ha,” Lance snorts, “came out.”   
  
“You’re...you’re kidding, right?”   
  
“Okay, okay,” The smile on his face turns serious, “jokes aside, you can trust me. I’ve had a lot of experience with this, and, well...”   
  
His eyes avoid Keith’s for a moment. His fingertips tap on the table, seconds ticking away before he mumbles, “It’s how I figured out about Hunk.”   
  
“ _Hunk?_ ”   
  
_Hunk?_

“Don’t... make a big deal about it.”  
  
For all the times that Lance has made a big deal out of things that should have remained small, Keith feels he has every right to make a big deal about _this_ , if anything. Hunk. Lance has feelings, for Hunk. Hunk is the one who keeps his tossing and turning at night. Hunk is the one that made him blush in the diner yesterday. Hunk, his best friend. His _best friend_.

Keith and Lance have more in common than the former initially assumed, and in the strangest of ways.  
  
“I won’t.”   
  
Of all the ideas that Lance has suggested, this is perhaps the first one he’s open to. Keith’s at the brink of his mental demise, the flurry of new emotions he needs to sort through refusing to cease so he can get a minute to think through it all. He sees Shiro too much, and when he doesn’t, the feeling only gets worse with distance. No matter how many times he says _stop_ , his heart races without a hint of regret. And maybe, his mind doesn’t regret it either.   
  
At this point, anything works for him.

“What should I listen to? I don’t have any, uh, songs on my phone.”

Lance fumbles in his backpack (he utters a curt ‘loser’ but Keith brushes it off), fishing about with determination shining in his eyes until he tugs his cellphone out of his pocket. Headphones come next, dexterous fingers untangling the wires before setting Keith up with his Spotify playlist.

“I have one,” he answers, “it’s the same one I listened to when I figured out my feelings for Hunk.”

Keith hesitates, hand hovering uncertainly above his thighs. There’s no guarantee it’ll work; what if Lance is just pulling his chain? This could all lead to nothing at the end of the day; he could go back to his dorm, see Shiro and witness his presence smack him like a fresh breath of air. Nothing could change.

But Lance’s aura has changed; the same cocky confidence he’s so accustomed to living with has taken the backseat. He’s… _nervous_. Uncertain, and has seemingly bared what he perceives to be the darkest piece of his puzzle. Along with vulnerability, his eyes have yet to meet Keith’s in the past ten minutes they’ve been seated in the frozen yogurt parlor.

“Give it a shot?”

With a heavy heart and a delicate touch, Keith takes Lance’s headphones.

“You probably won’t understand anything she’s saying,” the brunette’s voice is muffled outside of the earbuds fastened in his ear, “but it sounds romantic enough.”

“Is it Spanish? What is it called?”

“It’s called ‘Eres Tú’.”

“What’s the point of listening if I’m not going to understand,” Keith brows furrow, ready to rip the headphones out of his ear and demand they leave, but an angry snatch of his wrist quells any and all movement.

“ _Hey_ ,” Lance glares, “can you shut the fuck up for a second? Stop trying to understand everything! God. _Jesus, Keith_. You know what your problem is?”

Still stunned by the stern drop of his roommate’s voice, he can’t bring himself to answer.

“You think too much! Just, close your eyes, and _feel_.”

He presses play shortly after, and the world drowns into one filled with the strum of  guitars, complimenting gentle hints of percussion. His body betrays his mind, swaying modestly to the tune. At the conclusion of the intro, a woman’s voice, beautifully elegant, begins to sing in the language he lacks understanding in.

Keith tries not to focus on the absence of knowledge, and instead follows Lance’s advice, blinking a few times before eventually submitting and closing his eyes.

_Just, close your eyes, and feel._

_Let yourself feel, Keith._

And then he sees him. Or, rather, he doesn’t see him. He can’t; his eyes are closed. But there’s a weight on his heart, one that _wants_ Shiro to be beside him. The ghost of the bigger man’s touch creeps up his spine before blooming throughout the rest of his body. A string of ‘eres tú’s follow, and he gulps. God, he feels it. He feels it all; the overwhelming need for Shiro; his cheesy jokes, his consideration and care, the conversation he brings, the butterflies he conjures…

There’s a thousand sitting in his stomach, transfixed and begging to be released.

They beg for that kiss. The kiss he oh-so-stupidly dodged that night in New York City. He was right there, bodies flush against each other with the wind whipping at their faces. It was already cold… a kiss would have made it a bit better. What he’d do to press rewind… to have a do over and kiss him, just as he’s wanted to for so long, the thought plaguing him for months. Keith wants to kiss Shiro; and it _hurts._

Lance is right. The song… though there is an absence of understanding, the _feeling_ it brings, does justice. His eyes play tricks on him, placing him in his dorm room, enveloped in darkness. Shiro’s hands are on his hips, with Keith’s head tucked between his neck and his chest. His heart thunders at the thought of being so intimate with him, so _close_. It’s so close, his imagination so vivid he almost feels like he can touch the grooves of his collarbone, that if he reaches just a little further, pushes just a bit higher on the tips of his toes…

He opens his eyes as the song slows to a close, unsurprised when he sees the Lance nodding knowingly. The slow dance dissolves before him, but the mental image is scarring and permanent.

“Well? What did you feel?”

“Him,” he responds without hesitation, the room hotter than ever, “all—it… everything was about him. I felt his hands on my shoulders, his fingertips on my neck when he put this—this necklace on,”

He gestures to it in a slight frenzy.

“I…I couldn’t _not_ think about him…”

“So maybe you _do_ like him,” Lance takes his device back, “and, hey, Keith that’s _okay_. You can’t understand what you’re feeling, but that doesn’t mean that you should ignore it.”

Keith keeps his gaze trained at the multicolored circles painted on the wall behind Lance. He can’t meet his eyes right now. Not when he’s always feeling torn open and vulnerable to this void in his heart he didn’t know was tangible.

“Besides, who the fuck even really understands feelings anyway?”

And for the first time (and perhaps the last), Keith agrees to take his position in consideration. As annoying, and utterly clueless he believes Lance can be sometimes, there is one thing that he’s certain the spirited Cuban is good with: feelings. Every single one of them.

The pair vacate as soon as the see the sun setting outside of the display windows. Lance offers to pay for the Uber again, but Keith shakes off any resentment he held prior to discovering the true intentions of the journey. He orders without hesitation, dismissing Lance’s protests.

During the car ride, Keith wants to ask what Lance heard when listening to ‘Eres Tú’. He can only assume he felt something different when listening for himself.

“Lance?”

“Yeah Keith?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot!” Lance’s sunglasses remain perched on his nose as he turns with a flick of his head. Keith can’t see his eyes. It must be intentional.

“What did you feel when you listened? What did you see?”

A sound that could be considered a laugh puffs past his lips. Not even seconds after, his teeth grind down on his lower lips as he treks through his memories.

“I felt the effect he has on me, no matter what we’re doing. I felt his victorious smile whenever we’d play video games and he’d somehow beat me. I felt the joy and soul shattering passion he puts into the things and people he loves. I felt everything that encapsulated the true reason why I feel the way I feel about him.”

When he’s serious, more focused on what he wants to say rather than what he thinks people want to hear, Lance can skid near the lines of poetic. Keith nods, acknowledging his response and turning back to stare at the sunset.

“You can’t… _ignore_ those feelings Keith. If Shiro makes you feel rainbows and butterflies and keeps you awake at night, then he just _does_ . You can’t control how you feel—god knows what I’d do if I could—but you _can_ control what you do with it.”

“But…” Keith lets out a shaky sigh before relaying the worst of his fears, “I don’t want to lose his friendship if he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“You’ll lose it either way. Either he’ll figure you out and leave, or you can decide when that is on your own terms. Either way, you’ll never know unless you _say something_.”

“… Do I have to?”

“You can’t just tell your heart to stop feeling for someone without closure.”

“Right.”

And as his eyes fill with the hues of red, yellow and orange painted across the sky, all he can imagine is Shiro’s gaze possessing it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part two coming soon...


	2. PART II: WINTER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> _HOLIDAYS AREN’T KEITH’S FORTE._ He won’t even try to pretend they are, frankly. Holidays involved families, and bonding, and love that Keith just didn’t have the opportunity to experience. Though it would bother someone else, for Keith it’s an unavoidable fact that he learned to live with long before he went to college. It’s alright anyway, there’s more for him to enjoy than the holiday season. There’s still snow, that fell pure and white from the clouds on a good day. Even though the aftermath is usually never favorable, Keith always makes sure to stop and enjoy the snow while it’s white; blinding and beautiful as it falls onto everything in sight. The silver lining of winter, he likes to presume it as. Winter, as beautiful as its exterior has always been, Keith still feels cold. The silver lining can only last for so long. But this year, he has Shiro. 
> 
> Shiro, who sparked an inferno so bright, he just might be able to make it through the winter without freezing to death.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, apologies in advance for trashing tex and krolia. disclaimer, i love them with all my heart! i planned this out before we knew keith's mom's story!
> 
> also, i'd like to point out that some of these seasons will blend; some of the winter scenes will be in the spring scene, as some of the fall scenes ended up here!
> 
> just a warning, because the pacing of this story doesn't even really exist? it's kind of just jumps between time and important slivers of the relationship and this is basically me saying this fic is a m e s s!
> 
>  
> 
> **CURRENT STATUS: possible errors**
> 
>  
> 
> hope you enjoy part two <3

i.

Keith and Lance don’t talk about that day at the frozen yogurt place. They don’t discuss it with each other, or with the group. Keith is grateful to Lance for keeping it under wraps. They shared something a bit too intimate to be released to the public, and frankly, Keith has yet to come down from the high of realizing just how intense his feelings are for Shiro.

It’s been a week, and he feels as if he’s at the climax of one of the movies his late foster sisters would watch. They weren’t the type of thing he liked, no, but he always enjoyed the endings. The stakes were high, resolve was shattering, and it's now or never for the protagonists. And there would always be a happy ending. Always.

To have a happy ending and confess how he’s feeling, butterflies and headaches all at once, is something he wants more than he can understand. Every night after Eres Tú, he finds himself lying awake in his bed, thoughts of release and emotional freedom consuming his very being. He wants that moment under the spotlight, that knee-buckling kiss that everyone’s been waiting for that can’t come soon enough. To have it all with Shiro would be beyond anything he’d ever dreamed of. And yet, it’s… strange, to suddenly feel this passionately and desperately for someone.

He isn’t doing a good job handling everything, the proof in his irregular sleep schedule. It’s gotten to the point where the voices in his head yelling at him to do one thing versus the other are louder than Lance’s guttural snores.

The memories reel like a film; the night they met, the  _ Stranger Things  _ necklace that rests on his dresser and the speech that came with the present, stolen moments of lingering in the back of the group that he’s always cherished. And he’s yet to forget the crystal neon lights giving Shiro  _ that much more  _ of an appeal, either.

It’s ridiculous. He’s starting to pick out little bits of their conversation, smiling to himself at small chuckles and quirky smiles.

_ God, he’s losing it. _

When the clock strikes one on a Thursday night, he gives up entirely on sleep. Endless images of Shiro plague his mind to the point of no return, his laughter an echo that only gets louder and his eyes a doorway to his soul that Keith just happened to fucking  _ fall  _ through.

He needs release, maybe more than he needs resolution. The desperation to clear his head consumes him as he clambers out of his twin bed, searching for his Converse while avoiding the probable trip on his pajama pants. All this, while trying to let Lance sleep.

Just because he doesn’t get any sleep doesn’t mean he’s gonna be the asshole that tries to fight fire with fire.

Once the second shoe is on he reaches to grab his cell phone resting on his nightstand. Knowing there’s only one place that he can go to clear his head without freezing in the cold, he dials Pidge’s number.

_ Ring _ .

He steps outside, letting in as little light as possible into the room.

_ Ring _ .

Keith locks the door quietly, navigating his way to the elevator as soon as he’s sure Lance is secure in the room.

_ Ring— _

“Hello?”

“Pidge!” He exclaims, surprised (but  _ very  _ pleased) she picked the phone, “You’re awake?”

“I’m pretty sure college has given me some form of insomnia since we started,” she complains, following with a curt yawn, “why?”

“I need to borrow your view,” he says, the words foreign on his tongue. Usually it’s Lance or Hunk uttering those words. Keith’s never vocalized his need for  _ anything _ , let alone Pidge’s view.

“Right now?” She whines, “You mean I gotta sign you in and all that jazz at one in the morning?”

“Didn’t you say college gave you insomnia?” Keith teases slightly, pressing the ‘down’ button on the elevator panel, “Come on, please? I’ll buy you a coffee cake muffin tomorrow.”

“Muffin  _ and  _ a Coolatta,” she says.

“Those are disgusting,” he grimaces, “but whatever you want, okay?”

“Deal. See you in five?”

“Yup, see you then.”

Pidge hangs up before he can even move the phone from his ear, the end tone blaring in his ear. He sighs as the elevator dings, indicating its arrival. The ‘M’ button lights up as he nudged it with his elbow, leaning back against the metal railing as the doors shut. He throws his head back with a sigh, listening to the consistent tone that sounds with every floor the cart passes. He only opens his eyes when he hears the automatic voice announce ‘FLOOR M’, doors opening slower than usual.

Keith’s never awake this late to see how night life on campus functions (minus the one night they went to the city), but it seems that everything and everyone is slower once the clock strikes midnight. Rush hour is a thing of the past, and no sense of urgency seems to exist. Watching the elevator doors drag open brings this to his attention, and makes a home in his mind as he decides to take his time walking to Kingsman. There’s no rush anyway.

It takes him ten minutes instead of five, which the young girl isn’t too happy about. He bears getting his ear scolded off, sits through the whole ‘you made me sit here in my pajamas for 5 extra minutes for you’ spiel, all the way up to her room, where the skyline awaits. Keith can already feel his brain falling apart, the process sparked early thanks to his decision to take his walk with leisure.

“So may I ask why you’ve decided to bless me with your presence this late? In your finest linen, might I add?” Pidge tugs at his white t-shirt, Keith reaching to tap her hand away.

“Ha ha,” he rolls his eyes, “listen, I would have changed, but that would require waking Lance up. And I’m not about to pull a  _ Lance _ , and wake him up.”

“Ah, reverse psychology?” 

“Something like that. Maybe he’ll learn how to be a better roommate when he realizes what a good one I am.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” she snorts, flipping through one of her many green notebooks, “Lance’s attention span is so small. He’d something that you do one minute, then find a nice cloud to look at the next.”

Keith chuckles a little, free hand clutching his thigh nervously. He’s trying to distract himself, he really is. But Shiro’s making a home in his head, and he’s starting to feel his presence intensely. His nervous thoughts are cut short when Pidge resumes her interrogation.

“But seriously, is everything okay?”

Not sure how to explain that he can’t sleep because he can’t stop thinking about anything and everything Shiro, he opts for his other option.

“It’s nothing important. Just needed a clear head. And a, clearer view.”

“ _ Right _ ,” she nods, “well, I’ll be here if you need me.”

Keith nods, grateful that Pidge even let him in her room. It’s not like he’s ever that open to having people in his and Lance’s room. Usually he’s only not opposed to Shiro coming in.

_ Ugh. Shiro _ . How could he have forgotten so soon why he’d come in the first place? Keith hasn’t the slightest clue what he’s going to do about his growing feelings for Shiro. It’s countless, endless replays in his head of moments from the first night they met, to the night they decided to go into the city. 

He can still remember just how badly he wanted to press his lips against Shiro’s when they stood outside of the small garden, waiting for their Uber to come. It wasn’t the only instance he had alone with Shiro that night, but it’s still the one he remembers the  _ most _ . Every detail of it as well, like how Shiro’s pinned back forelock exposes his forehead, somehow highlighting his eyes and making them seem brighter than they already are. Or the way he never seems to frown. Even when they’re freezing to death in New York City, waiting for a dank Uber.

When he came to terms with the fact that maybe he  _ does  _ like Shiro as more than a friend, it seemed to spiral his derailed train of thought. Keith hates to say it, but maybe it’s serving as a sign, rather than a burden? A sign for him to make a move on Shiro and just tell him how he feels?

But is he ready for it? God if he knows; when was the last time Keith had a boyfriend? Right; he  _ hasn’t. _ He wouldn’t even know where to begin. Does he tell him how he feels? Or does it he keep it secret, be cryptic like Lance is whenever he talks to whoever he’s talking too. His roommate is crazy, but his roommate had  _ had  _ boyfriends. Certainly further than Keith’s ever gotten.

His heart races with excitement at the consideration of confessing to Shiro. It’s been a couple months, yes, and they’ve hung out plenty. It’s not unreasonable for him to have a crush (Shiro wouldn’t need to know that it’s been brewing since the day they’ve met either). 

Shiro and Keith.

Keith and Shiro.

Attainable? It all depends on Shiro. The constant teasing from their group probably doesn’t help, always going on about how Shiro and Keith basically act like a couple when they’re out because they stay close together. It’s not Keith’s fault that Shiro’s just easy to talk to. It’s not his fault there’s a literal tether connected to his heart that only Shiro can pull.

Oh god; is he _ scared  _ of him because of the taunting? 

“Shit!” He yelps as someone knocks on the door. Pidge raises an eyebrow, chuckling quietly before belting out a tired ‘it’s open’.

The mass between the hallway and the room opens, and Keith’s stomach starts doing somersaults.

_ Shiro. _

“Pidge,” he says as he looks down at his phone, unaware of Keith sitting on Pidge’s nightstand, “I need to borrow your—”

Shiro looks up, locking eyes with Keith as his words die in his throat. 

“--view.”

Shiro’s shown up to the room in his own set of pajamas: grey sweats and a black t-shirt that’s tight on his muscles in  _ all the right ways.  _ Keith already feels numb from the waist down, unable to tear his eyes away from the hulking beauty before him, and incapable of sprinting away from his possible doom. Pidge looks between the two men, grin growing on her face as she connects the dots they’ve yet to find.

“I’ll…be right back.”

Keith watches as his only lifeline retrieves her green notebook, laptop, and cellphone before glancing at him and Shiro. 

“Make yourselves at home,” she grins before shutting the door. Keith blinks before turning his attention back to Shiro, who’s already making his way towards where he’s seated.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“Likewise,” Keith watches meticulously as Shiro slides onto Pidge’s dresser as well, pressing his head against the cool window.

“It’s hot in my room, and I uh, needed some air.”

“Lance is in my room,” Keith tries to joke and succeeds, reveling in the sound of Shiro’s laughter as it carries through the room, “so I had to get some air too.”

“Right right,” he calms himself, craning his head back towards the city. Keith follows suit, folding his clammy hands together before grimacing to himself.  _ Nasty _ .

“So was it just Lance that brought you here tonight,” Shiro speaks up as Keith discreetly wipes his hands against his pants, “or are you looking to find, a Demogorgon perhaps?”

“You’re still  _ on  _ this bullshit?” Keith asks, grin spreading wide enough to crack his poor face as he looks down at him endearingly.

“It’s not bullshit. You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first.”

“I promise you that no one in the world right now is looking for a fucking  _ demogorgon  _ Shiro.”

He gasps playfully, a large hand clutching the spot on his chest where his heart is, “Wow! I thought we were friends!”

Behind Keith’s smile hides a scream that he desperately wishes to release.  _ Friends?  _ He can’t help but feel the exact opposite.

“We—we are,” he stutters towards recovery, “but Shiro, you’re kind of making it hard with the monster bullshit.”

“They’re real, you just aren’t ready for it.”

“So which one is it? Am I not ready for it, or am I jealous of you?”

“Well,” Shiro pretends to ponder, “there’s a thousand reasons you’d be jealous of me.”

“Oh?  _ Really _ ?”

“Yes! You tell me where you’re ever gonna find a smile like this, huh?”

And yeah, Shiro’s right. Keith doesn’t think he’d be able to find a smile that twists his heart without fail the way his does. He bears all his teeth, and Keith admires just how white they are. As Shiro retracts, the younger mumbles to himself, unaware of how loud he really is,

“No one’s got a smile like yours.”

His blood runs cold as the sentence completes itself, his hands freezing mid-fumble.  _ Fucking shit— _

“Thank you, Keith.”

He can’t even bring himself to look back at Shiro, scolding himself for saying something so…so  _ weird.  _ Silence is the only thing that sits between them and Keith, with no other possible options, desperately tries to get the conversation back where it started.

“Wanna know why I’m here?”

“Yes, I’d love to know!” Shiro exclaims, teasing tone making a quick comeback. Keith just rolls his eyes playfully.

“I’m here because this view is fucking incredible,” he huffs onto the window, drawing a ‘K’ in the condensation in an attempt to distract himself from his embarrassing outburst. His chances of success are dwindling on a frayed string.

“Hm,” he hears, but decides not to turn away until, “well I can name a few views better than this one.”

Keith blinks. Did he just…

“Maybe just one.”

His head turns, still pressed against the glass and  _ oh god _ , Shiro’s looking at him. Staring him down with every heart stopper he’s got; the smoldering eyes, the easy-going confident smile with his stupid,  _ stupid _ eyebrows turned upwards in a warm, inviting manner. Keith’s insides melt.

It’s a confession if he’s ever heard one, eyes darting down to where Shiro’s hand is now reaching for his clammy one, taking it in his gently. The sensation of skin on skin sends pulses all throughout his body, unable to keep his focus on Shiro’s eyes rushing closer to his face as he tries to stop himself from combusting. He’s never felt so much at once at the hands of a single man, but here comes Takashi, blowing his mind like it’s no big deal.

Keith is unable to articulate words before Shiro has willingly backed him into the back wall, cradling his chin with his free hand and pushing his lips onto his. A squeak escapes Keith’s mouth before he’s helplessly trapped. It’s been so long since he’s kissed someone, he’s unsure of how to react when Shiro takes the initiative and just  _ goes for it _ . 

He stays there, comatose as the latter tries to prod a reaction, nudging against his lips once more after pulling for a moment. Keith tries to reciprocate, let Shiro know that everything he’s doing is one hundred percent desired, but he’s so utterly bewildered he can’t show just how much he wants it.

So instead he moves his hands ( _ finally  _ using his brain) to tangle themselves in Shiro’s waves of hair, pulling him away gently. Shiro’s eyes blow wide open, most likely assuming he’s done something wrong.

“I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to come onto you,” he breathes, still  _ very  _ close to Keith’s lips. Keith can smell the Listerine and toothpaste on his breath, and despite it not being the most desirable smell, Shiro wears it well.

“You’re okay,” He tries to redeem himself, “I just wasn’t expecting you to do that.”

“Oh. Did you not like it? I probably read the situation wrong didn’t I?”

“No! No, you read it perfectly.” Keith praises him, relaxing as he sees Shiro’s intensity lower.

“It’s just been awhile,” he continues, “for me at least. But I uh, I like the way your lips feel.”

Shiro laughs, smiling and slow as he dives back down to meet Keith’s worried, yet eager eyes. There’s one thing that he’s learned about Shiro, and it’s that he knows how to read the terrain. He does it well, too.

“Do you wanna try again?” He whispers, hot breath tickling his already tempted lips.

“Yes,” he gasps, melting in the sweet caress of Shiro’s thumb against his cheekbone, gentle as he cradles his jaw before bringing their lips together a second time.

It’s better, Keith’s initial fear gone as some makeshift confidence takes its place. He allows himself to explore a bit, hands feeling useless until he pushes them up Shiro’s torso, toned and meaty underneath his hot palms. They sink underneath his shirt for a moment before coming back up and into his hair, tugging the older man closer. He huffs, deepening the kiss on his end and picking Keith up off the desk and placing him back down in his lap.

Now,  _ this  _ was new; quite an exposing position for someone as reserved as Keith has grown up to be. But Shiro’s setting every part of his body on fire with each press of their lips, and all he wants is for the inferno to consume him.

He almost misses the Christmas lights flicker around them, switching on and off rapidly. The two boys pull away, an embarrassing string of saliva the only evidence of their recent actions. Other than bruised lips, labored breathing and Keith’s semi.

Shiro’s greys scan the room before resting back onto the boy perched hotly in his lap, grinning and whispering, “It’s a demogorgon.”

A choked sound of disbelief leaves Keith’s lips, absolutely astounded by just how  _ easily  _ Shiro could turn him off.

“You are fucking  _ horrendous _ .”

“Kiss me again,” he commands playfully, and Keith complies only because it will benefit him in the long run. He hums as Shiro’s mouth touches his, lips slotting together and a risqué hand slipping underneath the hem of his pajama shirt.

They stay there awhile longer, content with kissing and talking comfortably as two boys can with one pressed against a cold window, and one uncomfortably alight on the other’s thighs.

It’s not until three in the morning that Pidge returns, demanding the two leave her room and, to quote her, ‘bone your lives away elsewhere’. Normally, Keith would probably be embarrassed, or maybe even offended, but he can’t help but release the laughter bubbling in his stomach. Shiro follows shortly after, trying not to be too loud and wake up the sleeping residents as they make their exit.

They kiss in the elevator, as they’re walking down the sidewalk, and stop to get themselves into another heated situation when Keith asks why Shiro left his dorm, and tells him it’s because he wants to walk him to his room. He—it was so chivalrous of him to offer. How could he not kiss him?

Eventually they make it back to Keith’s room, out of breath and giggling too hard for their own good. Shiro leans against his door frame, beaming down at the shorter boy before snaking his arm back around his waist.

“Oh my god,” Keith groans quietly, trying to keep quiet for Lance’s sake, “you’re ridiculous, get off of me.”

“Okay, under one condition.”

“What is it?”

“Let me take you out on a date.”

The playful tone dissipates as Keith glances up at Shiro, who is solemn in his choice of words, still holding him loosely. His digits dig into his hip and Keith bites down on his lip, bracing himself on his arms.

“Of course,” he says, “j-just text me when.”

“You can count on it,” Shiro’s grin doesn’t falter, tossing him a little wink before gradually bringing their bodies closer together.

“Oh my  _ god, _ the damn winking,” Keith’s whines tell one story, but his smile tells another. Shiro presses a soft kiss against his teeth.

“Can we get breakfast tomorrow?” He asks, “At the shitty dining hall?”

“Why do you wanna go get breakfast at the shitty dining hall?”

“Remember that one time we went, and it was empty? Silent, other than the workers?”

Keith nods, focused on the glimmering set of eyes before him.

“I like it there with you. You like to take things in, like I do. And because of that, I got to take in every single bit of you.”

“Shiro…”

“I-I mean it,” he stammers and Keith’s grin widens impossibly, hand reaching to draw a little star in his cheek.

“We can get breakfast at the shitty dining hall. As long as  _ that’s  _ not our date.”

“It’s not! I swear!” He yells and Keith’s eyes widen, rushing to kiss him quickly in an attempt to silence him. Shiro makes a muffled sound before humming, pleased with the results. Shiro’s tongue traces his lower lip, and for a moment Keith thinks it’s going too fast, but he feels so safe in Shiro’s arms, so taken care of, that he goes for it anyway, eyes fluttering shut. His tongue is wet and warm against Keith’s, teeth clashing together occasionally as they begin to learn each other's mouths. After a couple minutes, Shiro pulls away with a pop. He removes his hand from Keith’s waist, reaching with his thumb to wipe some stray saliva from the young man’s lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” He says, head coming down and lips brushing against his cheek. The French kissing doesn’t have the slightest effect, no, but the way Shiro’s lips rub against his skin sends his entire face into peril. His blush spreads quickly as he covers his face, smiling behind his hands as Shiro’s laugh rings throughout the halls until he’s gone, dashing down the stairwell.

Keith bites down on his lip as sure as he’s gone, joy erupting within him as he jumps around excitedly. He feels light, floating in the air with the jubilation of a child.

 

ii.

Keith and Pidge stroll into Dunkin' Donuts the morning after, sleep exhaustion the least of their problems. Pidge, who can handle the day on any amount of shut-eye, seems to be too excited about her free breakfast, while Keith is reliving the events of last night in his mind. Shiro seems so close now,  _ tangible  _ rather than unreachable. The possibilities are endless and have Keith on the edge of his seat.

The kiss, the kisses  _ after _ , the seemingly infinite pit in his stomach that remained after he kissed him goodbye and escaped down the stairwell. Keith's heart danced at the thought, a smile creeping upon his tired features. He hands Pidge his student ID, eyes glazed over as he stares at the menu, not really observing it.

He'd seen Shiro early this morning for their shitty dining hall breakfast, so he wasn't that hungry for Dunkin'. Awake the moment he caught a glimpse of Shiro's tuft of white hair, the two couldn't stop laughing as they reunited only four hours after their first kiss. Shiro takes the initiative to wrap his large body around Keith's considerably smaller one, pressing kisses all over his face before landing the final blow on his lips, sending a shockwave down to the tips of his toes.

It wasn't hard to keep him entertained either. Shiro is secretly a child in the body of a twenty-two-year-old, and Keith figured that out a long time ago. He'd say it was after their first argument regarding the existence of demogorgons that Shiro's childlike personality came out to play.

He was shoving another spoonful of cereal in his mouth, savoring the sugar blessing his taste buds, when he spotted Shiro's hand inching across the table, near his bowl.

"What?"

"Can I have some?"

Keith had glanced up, chuckling at Shiro's wide, hopeful smile. No matter how incredibly goofy and charming the man was, he'd never get any of Keith's food.

"We chose a table right next to the cereal bar for a reason," Keith's hand raises to point at the cereal bar behind them, "use those legs that God gave you, and get it yourself."

"But you see," Shiro's explanatory voice came out and a groan muddled with a strangled laugh fell from Keith's lips, "I already  _ have cereal _ . Yours is different from mine! What if I don't like it? What if I didn't want a second bowl to eat? Keith, this physique doesn't come from  _ sleeping _ ."

"Oh my god," He can't stop laughing, fuzzy warmth flooding his insides like a tsunami.

"Plus, if I don't like it, who's gonna eat it? I'm not, and you're not since you eat like a fourth of what I eat in a day--"

" _ Rude. _ " He snorts

  
"So by you giving me a small bite of your cereal, you're helping save the environment and preventing extra work for the dishwashers!"   
  


And as stupid and compelling as the argument is, it's Shiro's shiny, natural disposition that helps his cave.

" _ Fine." _

He took a massive spoonful out of his bowl, waving it teasingly at Shiro.

  
"Open up."

Shiro complied, opening his mouth wide and leaning forward. Keith just, couldn't stop laughing as he surrendered to his silly games, feeding him the cereal he oh so desired. He chews, winking and contorting his face as he does so.

"This is fucking nasty." He coughed, handing the spoon back to Keith, who smirked knowingly.

"Trix is an acquired taste, Takashi."

"It's a  _ gross _ one."

"You're not ready for it, that's all."

The two of them decided to leave shortly after, as the dining hall was starting to fill and they personally liked not having to deal with loud, obnoxious college students. He smiles at the early memory, cheeks reddening as he thought of Shiro's hand sliding up his shirt not long after they left, lips sealed against his, chests pressed together...

"Whatcha thinking about, Kogane?"

Pidge appears, and Keith is suddenly fully aware of his parched throat and tingling privates. Now wasn't the time to be daydreaming of Shiro's lips; plump, skilled, teasing his neck...

" _ Keith _ ."

_ Not the time. _

"Nothing, nothing," he replies, eyeing the coolatta that rests in his small palms, "can I have a sip?"

"You're kidding, right? Mr. Don't Touch My Food? That's funny, try again."

"Okay!"

"You're a fucking hypocrite."

“Whatever,” Keith sports an easy grin as the two of them sit at one of the high tables in the student center plaza. Pidge digs in, destroying her muffin before Keith without a care in the world. He doesn’t mind either, sitting back comfortably as she eats.

“So,” she says after a while, wiping her mouth, “what happened after I left the room last night?”

“Huh?”

“You know, you and Shiro. I left for a reason.”

“Oh,” he blushes, “right, of course.”

“Well?”

“Well…” his cheeks burn and he grins at the memories recurring in his mind, “I-I’m going on a date with him.”

“You  _ are? _ ” Her time overflows with sarcasm. Keith rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, he asked me out when he walked me back to my room,” Keith lets loose a little, clasping his clammy hands together excitedly, “he won’t even tell me what we’re doing.”

Pidge stops eating as a smile consumes her face instead.

“Keith, that’s  _ great!  _ Oh my god, finally!”

“Thanks, I just…I had no idea how happy I’d be right now. I knew I was gonna be happy, but not  _ this  _ happy, you know?”

“Shiro’s a great guy. I had no doubts that he’d do right by you. And he  _ will _ Keith, trust me. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“What do you mean ‘like this’?”

“He…” Pidge chooses her words carefully, “it’s not my place to say, but Shiro’s dated around a bit. Most of his relationships would fizzle out and they’d be a thing of the past.”

“This is  _ not  _ a good thing to tell me,” Keith’s eyes rim with horror, “the  _ hell?! _ What if—”

“Wait! Wait! Let me finish,” she orders, gnawing into her muffin again, “what I was  _ going  _ to say, is that he never had the look in his eyes that he has with you.”

He nods, her words heard loud and clear, but nowhere near understood.

“So…?”

“Shiro bought you a birthday present without you asking. In fact, he went  _ wild  _ when he heard, and had nothing to give. Lance and I tried to tell him it was fine but he was so insistent on getting you something.”

“ _ Oh _ .” Rosy pink dusts Keith’s cheeks as he chews on his lips nervously. The cold charm resting in the center of his chest suddenly burns at the mention of it. He’s used to  _ other _ people getting special treatment, not him. The necklace… it was…

_ It was no biggie _ , he remembers Shiro saying,  _ I was just passing by _ . Keith wonders how much of that story is true.

“He likes you,” Pidge assures him, “you have literally nothing to worry about. More so since he fucking  _ kissed you _ .”

Keith can only hope that the she’s is right, watching numbly as she finishes her coffee cake morsel. His fingers find their way to the ‘Mouth Breather’ charm, twisting the circular plate as a thousand thoughts circle in his head.  
  
  


iii.

“Why did you have to cover my eyes? Don’t you have a blindfold?”

“Hey. That’s kinky.”

“Only because you’re disgusting!” Keith laughs, waving his hands out in front of him, “Can you please tell me where we are?”

“You’ll figure out in ten literal seconds.”

“But Shiro I—”

“Ten, nine, eight…”

“ _ Takashi—” _

“Three two one surprise!”

Shiro uncovers his hands, revealing the sight he’d worked so hard to hide away. Keith’s eyes open excitedly, gripping his hands only to have them fall when he sees Pidge’s door.

“Why are we here?”

“The date is in here,” Shiro winks, waving what he assumes to be Pidge’s room key in his hand. Keith raises an eyebrow, following his lead curiously.

“Why here?”

“Symbolism. It’s where we had our first kiss. And…I’d like it to be where we have our first date.”

His face burns at the mention of their first kiss. He can still feel the intensity full force, despite it being so long ago. Was it that long ago? Keith’s starting to lose track of the days. But Shiro’s gesture comes from the heart, and knowing that makes the night that much better.

“So what if I kissed you in the photo booth? In New York? Would we have had our first date in there?”

Laughter rests on the tip of Keith’s tongue as Shiro glares down at him, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Just for that, I’m going to stuff an entire candlelit dinner in a photobooth. Just to prove you wrong.”

“Are you implying we’re going to have a second date?”

Shiro groans outwardly, fishing Pidge’s key out of his jeans pocket as Keith continues to tease him relentlessly.

“You’re so presumptuous Shiro,” he taunts, “who says I’m…”

Keith’s comment fades away as the door creaks open. The dull gleam of the fairy lights lining Pidge’s room quells his ability to speak. They weren’t the same from the night before, the bright colors of the rainbow painting the white walls and covering every corner. On the ground rests what Keith assumes to be Shiro’s duvet, along with take out from the diner.

His stomach does a couple thousand somersaults when Shiro suddenly makes his presence known, the back of his head suddenly pressed against the older man’s chest. A delicate hand reaches to linger near his biceps. Keith couldn’t see stars when he was young, but they’re all he can see when his eyes flutter shut from the sensation.

He spots champagne in the corner of the room, and his knees wobble. 

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Keith doesn’t hesitate, “thank you.”

“Course,” he says, his body weight absent as quickly as it had appeared. Keith blinks for a moment, recentering before cautiously sitting down on the duvet. Shiro takes Keith’s food out of the plastic bag while he attempts to make himself comfortable, suddenly overly self conscious about how he’s sitting. Realizing that Shiro’s probably going to  _ sleep  _ on this afterwards, he also kicks off his sneakers, placing them neatly beside him.

“So I got you a burger and fries, because that’s all I see you eat,” Shiro explains and Keith laughs, covering his mouth as he does so, “just cheese, none of the fancy stuff.”

“You remembered?”

Shiro nods, a smile on his face. Keith flushes, the small gesture alone one he never expected from Shiro. Then again, he  _ should  _ start expecting such observation. It’s one of the older man’s specialties.

“It’s only the lamest burger I’ve ever seen.”

“ _ Hey _ ,” Keith snatches his box from Shiro, “you know, there’s people in the world that eat just the beef? No bun? No condiments?”

“That’s just eating meat shaped like a circle.”

“Okay; there’s people that just eat the bun.”

“That’s  _ toast _ .” Shiro gestures to his own sandwich, picking up the bread that rests on the top. Keith snorts at this.

“The point I’m trying to make it that you can’t say anything about the way I choose to make my burger! You couldn’t before, and you  _ still  _ can’t.”

“Keith--okay you know what, nope. This is a date. If we keep arguing, I might rip your head off.”

“It’s cute that you think  _ you’re  _ going to rip my head off.”

“What’s your favorite color?” Shiro interrupts, trying to be serious and hold back his laughter. Keith’s face contorts into something of incredulity. The man that has effortlessly roped him into this date grins beside him, shrugging.

“You’re changing the subject?”

“You betcha; what’s your favorite color?”

Keith grins.

“Red.”

“Really?”

“I  _ do  _ have a temper,” he answers, striving to make a joke of it, “I guess it suits me.”

“Red doesn’t just mean ‘angry’,” Shiro takes a casual bite of his sandwich, covering his mouth briefly as he chews, “I mean, we all kind of associate colors with different things.”

“That’s true…”

“Do you associate red with anger?”

In all honesty, once asked, Keith realizes that he  _ doesn’t  _ associate red with anger. He never has. Shiro’s eyes tell a story of curiosity; one that never seems to end when it comes to Keith. 

“No, I don’t.”

“What is it for you, then?”

“I…don’t know. I mean, when I was little, I’d move around a lot. I had this little red hippo and I’d never let it go. I guess I just, associated that color with home? I loved the plushie, so I ah, loved the color too.”

Shiro‘s head bobs, attention never straying from the conversation. But Keith has no desire to continue.

“What about you?” He asks instead, “What’s yours?”

“Purple, easy.”

“Why?”

“When I was younger, my grandfather raised me. Parents were never really around, so I looked to him. He was a painter, and he was so passionate about it. He was one of those people that could talk for hours about their craft, and you’d be so captivated, those hours would fly by in the blink of an eye. He would always be working on something new when I’d come home from school. One day, he painted the night sky. It’s a piece that had practically every shade of purple in it. And every shade was so… pretty. I couldn’t find a derivation of purple that I hated. I can’t go a day without looking at it.”

“Do you still have it?”

“It’s in my room, actually.” A smile tugs at the corner of Shiro’s lips as he pops a french fry into his mouth, “Maybe you can see it when you come by one day?”

An  _ invitation _ to Shiro’s room? Keith’s blush spreads like wildfire across his cheeks, a whole universe of possibilities flowing through the opening of this door. It’s not the same as when the entire group that, and Keith feels that the both of them know that. He fights shock muddled with self consciousness in order to formulate a reply,

“Yeah, of course.”

Shiro pours him his first cup of champagne, handing it to him with care before serving himself.

“Good.”

They toast quietly before taking small sips.

The night continues long after they finish their food, conversation flowing from one thing to another. Keith’s nerves eventually dissipate, more or less nonexistent as he becomes comfortable. Their childhoods don’t come up again, and Keith is grateful for that. He never expected to open up in the slightest tonight, especially about something so strangely sentimental to him.

No one has ever ventured this far into Keith’s life. It’s unfamiliar, and he isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to it. Not even Lance dared to get so personal with him. What’s more incredible, is how Shiro manages to ask without prying intentions.

Shiro, as young as their relationship is, knows how to navigate Keith.

Or maybe it’s just the alcohol fizzing in his throat. The number of cups he’s downed has him somewhere between socially acceptable, and slightly off his rocker.

He finds himself laughing a lot more into the late hours of the night, petty arguments and playful moments getting the best of them. The two of them sprawl out on the floor to scroll through Shiro’s camera roll, Keith’s head tucked in the crook of his neck. The former’s free hand runs up Keith’s arm, catching onto his fingers every once and awhile as he maneuvers through endless pictures.

“What year are we in again?”

“2012,” Shiro announces, “the golden year.”

“Ooo,” Keith tries to grab the phone from Shiro’s hands, but the man has an iron grip, “let me see!”

“I’ll show you! But I get to scroll, that was the deal!”

“ _ Fiiiiiine _ .”

Keith scoots back into his position, a pout about his lips as Shiro swipes through a few silly pictures of him and his friends.

“Senior year?”

“Yeah; it was wild. That’s all I really remember. The pictures fill in the blanks.”

“Were you drinking?  _ Illegally? _ ”

Shiro glances down at him skeptically, narrowing his eyes and guarding his phone as if Keith’s going to report him for a crime he committed years ago.

“Doesn’t matter, because I’m legal now.”

“Mmm,” Keith, feeling a bit coy, takes his index finger and traces it up Shiro’s torso, “someone’s a rebel.”

The sensation of Shiro’s fingertips dancing along his hip flows straight to his groin.

“Do you like that?”

“Maybe—whoa whoa  _ wait.” _

Keith’s attitude shifts from one of lust as Shiro stumbles upon a specific picture that catches his eye. Successfully, he snatches the phone from Shiro’s unsuspecting hands and takes a good look. There in the screen is a classy shot of Shiro adorned in an all black tuxedo, hands purposefully adjusting the collar and he looks dramatically to the sky. Behind his pose lies a white gazebo, flowers tangled onto the planks of wood holding it together.

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” Keith guffaws, “is this real?”

“What do you mean?” Soft lips graze the side of his head as he zooms into the picture, “Of course it’s real.”

“What’s this for?”

“Senior prom,” he answers, sighing nostalgically, “God, I haven’t looked that sexy in years.”

“Oh,” Keith willingly lets his eyes scan Shiro’s full body hungrily, “I beg to differ.”

Shiro presses a long kiss into the side of his head before taking his phone back. The dizziness gets to his head when he pulls away.

“Where are your prom pics?”

“I actually uh, didn’t go.”

“You didn’t go?”

Shiro looks bewildered, and that in itself is enough of a reminder that Keith has lived a  _ very  _ different life from him. Unable to bring himself to tell the truth behind the matter, he conjures a lackluster excuse.

“I was uh…never a fan of prom? I never wanted to go; didn’t seem like a big deal for me.”

“You don’t regret it?”

He shrugs, tapping his leg nervously.

“I can’t dance, anyway.”

Shiro gulps the rest of his champagne down, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily before starting to stand up. That was his fourth cup, Keith thinks.

“Sucks; I was a bomb dancer back then, you know.”

“Oh  _ please _ ,” Keith drawls, pretending to be preoccupied with his phone as he lets himself talk more than he needs to _ , _ “I don’t believe that for a second. You look good. You look fucking  _ sexy _ , actually. But I can’t see ‘Your Royal Tallness’ being a solid dancer.”

“Bet?”

When Keith looks up his cell phone, Shiro’s hand is outstretched, his eyes trained on his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Keith,” Shiro puts his phone down on Pidge’s bed as his hand still hangs before the younger. The Police blares through his weak speakers, but Keith’s heart still drops to the bottom of his stomach.

“Come on, let’s dance.”

“To this?”

“You skipped your prom; you don’t get to choose your first slow dance.”

“Wow, so sweet,” Keith takes his hand eagerly, “chivalry isn’t dead, I see.”

“You’re just tipsy.”

“ _ So are you. _ ”

The two manage to get to their feet, slightly stumbling before the older of them gets ahold of himself and takes the lead.

“I’m kidding,” Shiro’s body curls into his smoothly, “I danced to this song during my prom.”

“Who was the lucky dude?”

“I was in the closet at the time,” he grins sheepishly, “but her name is Allura. She was my best friend at the time, and was totally chill with going to prom with me.”

“You guys stay in touch?”

“The occasional meet to catch up, yeah,” a hand brushes against Keith’s hip, skin burning where the elder’s touch lies, “we’re close though, yes.”

“Oh, nice.”

Shiro leads them, their silly dance turning into one of intimacy. Keith’s heart rises and falls erratically, suddenly extremely conscious of the nuances he typically overlooks. Suddenly, the state of his breath is more important than anything as his proximity to Shiro only increases.

Every small dip of his small body falls in tune with the music, more so as the tempo picks up. Keith gulps, hoping it’s not visible, when he dares to glance up at the man holding him close.

His eyes are shut as Shiro’s forehead barely touches his. The fingers brushing the skin on Keith’s lower back burn sweetly. He’s tense, but relaxed. Then Shiro starts to sing.

“ _ Oh can't you see, you belong to me, how my poor heart aches with every step you take _ …”

Somehow, it just makes things worse for Keith. ‘Somehow’ specifically because Shiro isn’t the  _ best _ singer. He’s a little off pitch, and maybe the parent of an eighth grade choir kid would tell him he did a great job. But when Shiro sings, Keith’s heart bursts wide open without fail. He can only pack the butterflies quivering in his aching heart into a unbridled gasp that he  _ hopes  _ the latter can’t hear. The gentle glow of the lights casts a shadow, hiding some of Shiro’s face from him, but his signature smile is still there. 

Undeniably, the twenty-two-year-old still has the capability to shake Keith’s actuality. Even when his singing sucks absolute  _ ass _ . 

Yet, his voice is powerful, with not a hint of shame laced in his lyrics. Still keeping his rhythm as they travel about the room, the song flows into the chorus and suddenly  _ Keith _ feels the urge to sing along bubbling in his core. His feet are tapping. He doesn’t remember wanting to… but he is. His head bounces to beat, and then Shiro’s attention is fully on him, and it’s hard to breathe.

“See? Good song, right?”

“I never said it was a bad song.”

Shiro hums in agreement before muttering a  _ ‘touche’ _ . Keith leans into Shiro’s hold, digging his side into his chest. Shiro’s chin fits atop his mussed black hair, his warmth only intensifying.  _ Comfortable _ …he muses. 

Usually by now he’s overthinking, wondering if he’s gone too far. To overstep is the last thing he wants to do, and it’s one of his worst fears. Shiro just has him fading in and out of general, logical thought.

It’s bad. So bad, he starts singing.

“ _ Since you've gone I've been lost without a trace, I dream at night I can only see your face, _ ”

Shiro’s chest shifts from its place, intrigue written about his features. Keith only gets louder.

“ _ I look around, but it's you I can't replace, I feel so cold and I long for your embrace— _ ”

He’s joined during the last line of the chorus, squeezing Shiro’s hand with spread fingertips as he pushes their bodies away. 

“ _ I keep crying baby, baby pleeeeeease! _ ”

When Shiro’s hands find his hips once more, Keith doesn't stray, doesn’t  _ think _ . All he can focus on is the music, the chime of pianos melting with the strum of the bass. The drums his heartbeat can’t help but mimic, Shiro’s cologne suffocating his lungs just how he wants them to. How can he  _ worry  _ when he’s so overwhelmed? 

His palms latch onto Shiro’s shoulders. He presses up close, knocking his forehead lightly against a snowy forelock. A gentle caress of his hip here and there reminds Keith just how compromising their position is. The last time he was this close to someone he was into…

_ He’s never been into someone like this.  _ Keith blushes at the realization.

His heart stirs in the pit of his stomach when that same encouraging hand nudges him closer. Hot breath spreads across his face, mouth parting instinctively. The sway stops, and Keith’s fingertips tighten their hold.

_ Oh God oh God oh God— _ Shiro’s lips ghost his until Keith conjoins them, roughly claiming a fistful of hair and tugging him into it.

_ Every Breath You Take  _ continues, but their dance reaches its end when Shiro angles his head and takes the kiss to a different world, his hands dropping to the back of Keith’s thighs to lift him up. Champagne, and the thrill sparking down their spines determine their next moves. Two firm palms reach to grip Shiro’s face as the kiss only intensifies. Keith pulls away for only a moment, thumb tracing a pattern into Shiro’s jawline before diving back in. Shiro’s mouth moves quickly, matching his lover’s tempo until he forces a more languid kiss. He drops to his knees so Keith can spread himself out, straddling Shiro’s hips almost immediately. 

It’s already  _ so much better _ than the first kisses they had, enjoying the urgency turned sensuality. Shiro’s lips nudge and prod at his, electricity sparking. His hair falls in front of their faces but Shiro doesn’t care, curling the few loose strings around his finger and kissing him harder before flipping them over.

“Fuck—” Keith utters but is stopped when Shiro brings them together once more. Their noses press tightly against each other and Keith giggles, enamored by the small mishap. Shiro smiles warmly, kissing his cheek before whispering,

“You’re ridiculously attractive.”

And the look in his eyes is enough for Keith to sit up, taking back control and resuming the kiss. His tongue darts out of his mouth, slipping past his lips and running against Shiro’s, warm and wet. The latter’s right hand reaches to hold his cheek, fingers spread as his tongue slides past and meets Keith’s. A hum flutters between them and the sensation creeps down to Keith’s toes.

He pulls away from Shiro promptly, tugging at his flannel.

“Take it off…”

The latter breathes deeply, looking to Keith’s hungry eyes for confirmation.

“Want me to?”

“Yeah, yes,” Keith barely whispers, scrambling back into his lap and tugging at the cloth, “take it off.”

Shiro follows the orders he’s been given, reaching for the buttons on his expensive flannel shirt, and undoing them. Keith watches with hungry eyes, more than curious of what lies underneath.

He’s more than pleased when the shirt is completely removed from the equation, admiring abs and endless valleys of muscles adorning his arms.

“ _ Jesus, _ ” he whispers, remembering  _ just  _ where he happens to be sitting. His thighs tighten around Shiro’s hip as he realizes his groin growing. God, he’s too much for him.

“You look so good right now…” Shiro utters, “so fucking good…”

And god, if that doesn’t make Keith want to kiss him.

Leaning in slow, he eases a gentle kiss upon his lips. Keith’s mind is a frenzy again; shouting, screaming, crying,  _ loving  _ the grind of their mouths. He’s under pressure, he’s drowning, losing air, all of it is flowing into his lips, into this kiss.

For a moment he’s wrapped up in it, completely and utterly immersed in, well,  _ Takashi _ .

His left hand reaches to card a hand through his dark locks. He leans into it, eyes opening fondly to be graced with the one thing that could have pulled him out of such a trance.

As if the sun rose in the middle of the darkest night, everything stops in the younger’s mind as he catches sight of the ink on Shiro’s skin.

Keith retracts from him, as if his kiss bled with venom. He’s still in his lap, unmoving and stunned into silence as his eyes creep to Shiro’s left wrist.

“Keith?” Shiro asks in a breathless whisper, “is everything alright? Was it too far?”

He can’t remember the last time he’d been so petrified. His throat was parched like he’d been stripped out water for a thousand years. Teeth bit into his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, rather than to be seductive. He tries to mask it, and hopes that Shiro won’t ask too many questions as the small outline of a crescent moon burns his retinas.

“I—sorry, I just…” Keith closes his eyes, turning away from Shiro’s concerned glance, “I…didn’t know you had a tattoo.”

“Oh,” the elder’s expression changes, a fond smile gracing his features as he turns over his wrist, “yeah. I’ve had it for a long time. Grandpa told me he took me to get it tattooed one day when I was younger, and I passed out.”

His melodic laughter fills the room, and Keith’s shattering heart as he recalls the memory, “I didn’t really get it, but I just went with it.”

Keith lets out a shaky breath. His last hope—that Shiro would remember where he got the moon—is thrown into the void just like that. He swipes at his eyes, ignoring the monster gnawing a hole inside of his stomach. After all these years, all that running, and his past  _ still _ comes to bite him in the ass.

Anger, fear, and the desire to resume what they had started combine into a deadly combination that Keith can only think to inflict upon the man whose lap he sits in.

He engulfs Shiro in his embrace, kissing him hard and knocking him on his back. Maybe his head hit the floor, maybe it didn’t. Keith can only remember the angry hickeys on his neck and how quickly his lips bruise.

 

* * *

 

“So, this is where we part.”

The two college boys stand in front of Keith and Lance’s door, staring endearingly at each other. Overall, the night was fantastic. Shiro pulled all the stops, and despite the little snag near the end that still prodded at Keith’s side as they stood before each other, he enjoyed himself. Especially once Shiro made him feel more comfortable. It’s not him, rather, the constraints of the term ‘date’. To see Shiro make their first so casual shows him what to anticipate out of the relationship. Nothing too high profile or intense; just a go-with-the-flow, ‘we’ll figure it out as we go’ vibe. Something he could undoubtedly go through with for the time being.

“I had fun,” Keith smiles, cocking his head to the side, anticipating a kiss, “thank you for tonight.”

“Don’t thank me,” Shiro provides, leaning in and brushing their lips together softly. Keith’s eyes flutter shut when Shiro pulls away to mumble, “it was my pleasure.”

His fingertips nudge against his, and Keith takes a hold of them quickly, giving him a quick kiss by the corner of his mouth.

“When can I see you again?”

“We could do breakfast again? If you can drag that ass out of bed.”

“I  _ can _ .”

Shiro, amused by how easily he can get the young man riled up, leaves him with another lingering kiss upon his lips, untwining his hands and sauntering down the hall. Without the love, the…safety, his presence holds, Keith’s self-destruction crashes like an ice cold wave. The elevator door shuts down the hall and the  _ panic  _ sets in.

_ The crescent moon _ .

Keith slams the door, locking it swiftly and smacking his forehead down against it. This could  _ not  _ be happening. Everything was going good; it was great. Shiro  _ kissed him.  _ They had a date and Keith—Keith was  _ straddling him!  _ It was magical and Keith could still feel the goddamn butterflies causing a stir within him. But if this is what he thinks it is,  _ it’s more than awful _ .

The issue at hand has been a distinct thorn in his side for  _ ages _ ; the  _ one _ thing his birth mother had recorded about him before he was shoved into the foster system. But everyone called her delusional as he moved around and about, they said that most of the things she had said about her son were either lies or concepts that were created because of her doing.

One of those things was this. 

And now? Keith isn’t so sure it was a lie anymore.

“Keith?”

He practically jumps out of his skin, failing to recall that he didn’t live alone. Lance, Hunk and Pidge all sat on the cold tile, huddled around Hunk’s laptop. They had paused whatever they were watching, interrupted by Keith’s abrupt entrance. Lance, being the one who had initially spoken, continues his interrogation.

“Dude, you look like you’ve seen a ghost…are you okay? Did the date go bad?”

_ He basically was visited by a ghost _ .

“Keith?”

“Shiro…has a tattoo?”

His palm clasps against his left wrist, as if the marks he saw on Shiro’s wrist would singe his own skin if he thought about it too much. 

“Yeah, the crescent moon on his wrist…” Pidge responds, closing her laptop, “what, is it too much for you?”

  
Keith doesn’t respond, closing his eyes and trying to concentrate on his breathing. There’s no way that the ramblings of his mother that had been ridiculed for as long as he could recall, are true. She couldn’t have been right.  _ There was no way _ . That would mean that he has been wrong this whole time; the doctors, the incessant line of foster parents,  _ everyone _ was  _ wrong _ .

“Keith are you okay?!”

His hand whisks from his wrist to his neck, rubbing tentatively.

_ Please, dear god, please no… _

“Keith, what’s going on?”

All three of them surround him now, Lance reaching up to wipe stray tears away from his cheeks. When had he started crying?  _ God _ , now they were watching him cry. This is far from what he wanted to happen. He was going to crawl into his bed, overthink the situation, forget about it and move on.

But college… college is all about making changes.

Maybe he could afford to make a change in his coping methods.

“Keith, you can talk to us.”

A concave sigh heaves out of his body, propelling Lance’s hand away from his face as he wipes his own stray tears away. He wasn’t upset anyway. He was lost, loathing the mere possibility of his starless past creeping up to attack him on what was meant to be the brightest of days.

“When did Shiro get his…tattoo?”

The trio steps back, surprised that Keith is responding so well to their physical proximity and concern. Though it’s well placed, it’s  _ Keith  _ they’re talking about. 

“Dunno,” Pidge shrugs, finger tapping her side anxiously, “he’s never really…talked about it before.”

“What’s the problem Keith?” Lance inquires without a hint of hesitation.

His shoulders shake as he reluctantly pulls his dark hair up towards the sky, turning uncannily slow. Keith knew what was coming, and he wanted nothing more than to escape the theory.

“Keith what--oh…oh my god.”

“Is that a…”

Regretfully, he manages to mumble a tremulous, “I’ve had it all my life.”

Lance’s fingers maps out the crescent moon visibly pronounced against his skin softly, worried that pressing down too hard will break him. Keith cries again, helpless when facing the new cognizance.

“Soulmate mark,” Lance whispers, the phrase crawling up the nape of Keith’s neck, now bare and exposed to the group.

He sobs, still wishing he’d never have to hear those words again.

 

* * *

 

“It’s the  _ same _ ,” Pidge marvels at the marking that Keith’s hair previously hid, “not even slightly similar. No significant differences or blemishes…it’s  _ exactly  _ the same.”

She steps back, crossing her arms as if her stance will intensify the means of her interrogation.

“ _ How? _ ”

And Keith could answer that question, god he would tell her. He’d pour his entire heart out to her; what was the harm if they already knew that the crescent moon was more than a tattoo?

“I don’t know,” he tries to keep his composure, “I…my mother, when she uh, put me through the foster care system,”

_ Abandoned you _ .

“the only information that travelled with me other than my birthday and basic demographics was that I was born with  _ this _ . A crescent moon, on the nape of my neck. Whenever I’d ask where it came from, my foster parents at the time would tell me that she tattooed it on when I was little, which led me to believe it was part of why she wasn’t raising me, and I--”

“You found the papers, read it for yourself, and found out the truth…”

Keith’s never been more thankful for Pidge’s tendency to put the pieces together before anyone else. Her critical thinking skills combined with her natural inclination for solving problems and just putting the pieces in the right places has proven to be useful time after time. It’s what got him and Shiro to go on this date, and it’s what’s preventing him from having to tell the entirety of his sob story.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he confirms her theory, “figured out,  _ lashed  _ out, and from there I was already out of the system, so I started working to pay for my tuition here.”

“Worked out well, hm?”

Lance, (who has been surprisingly quiet for the past five minutes) is smiling endearingly at him, leaning casually against Keith’s desk.

“What…?”

“Nothing, I just had no idea how hard you worked to get here.”

“Wha—I—well most of it is off of scholarship,” Keith is quick to explain himself, “I worked minimum wage, I couldn’t pay all of tuition off of that.”

“But I thought you said you almost didn’t graduate?”

“The scholarship programs didn’t need to know that.”

“But I don’t understand,” Pidge stops them from getting off track, “why weren’t you convinced until  _ now  _ that it’s a soulmate mark, if you already saw the papers?”

“I wasn’t going to be convinced until…” 

He looks at his own wrist before glancing back at Pidge.

“Until I found someone that matched.”

“Shiro,” she whispers, “that means  _ Shiro  _ could be your soulmate! Keith!”

He’s quick to shush her, afraid Shiro will come back with some sort of surprise and overhear. Perhaps he’s being paranoid, but to have information so vulnerable to him in the open is something he’s far from used to.

“That’s not a guarantee.”

“But he could be your  _ soulmate _ . Do you have any idea how rare this is? How lucky you are to have the possibility alone?”

That’s what angers him the most if anything. The fact that the one thing weighing him down is  _ luck _ . It’s good, and only good things can come from it.

“Have you ever heard this quote?” Keith asks.

“What quote?” Hunk urges him to go on.

Keith inhales swiftly,

“ _ O, swear not by the moon, th' inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circle orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable. _ ”

“Romeo and Juliet.”

Pidge, spot on, as usual, purses her lips.

“Wha--what does that mean?!” Lance queries.

“It means not to swear by the moon. Because the moon is always changing, and inconsistent. How  _ ironic  _ that our mark be the damn moon! My  _ life  _ is the phases of the moon. The shift in the wind, the change of the seasons! I—I like Shiro so much. I don’t want to give him the misguided hope of a soulmate mark if something happens. I don’t even know if it’s real!”

“Keith, I’m telling you,” Hunk rests a hand on his left shoulder, “this is  _ not  _ a coincidence.”

“But it could be! Don’t you see? It’s not set in stone—”

“Keith.”

Lance, who’s calmed down, mirrors Hunk, resting his hand on Keith’s other shoulder. The two of them glance at him knowingly, trying to ease him towards what he’s been running from all his life.

“I can’t tell him!” He wails, regardless, “I can’t— I can’t put the weight of our future on  _ this _ .”

A shaking finger extends to his crescent moon.

“Keith…” Lance whispers, but he shakes his head, ripping his body away.

“No! No, I can’t! I can’t do that to him, to  _ myself _ . This—this fucking thing has been poking and prodding at me nonstop, a constant reminder of bad luck and the inconsistency of my feelings, and my life, and the people  _ in  _ my life, and--and that can’t be Shiro! Shiro is too good. And I  _ refuse  _ to connect that to this demonic  _ scar  _ on my neck!”

Silence rings after Keith’s screaming ceases. His knees cave, and he lands on them harshly as he shields his eyes from the bystanders. 

“Please don’t tell him,” he begs weepily, “I—I can’t.”

It would be a crime to instill such hope in Shiro, only for his feelings to shift and waver and just  _ mess everything up _ . Truth be told, he isn’t sure if his frayed heart has the power to love someone as magnificent as Shiro is turning out to be. 

A soulmate mark would be the nail in the coffin.

“We won’t tell.”

Keith peeks through his fingertips, spotting little pieces of Lance’s body engulfing his in one fell swoop. Their knees knock together and his hands retract in shock, eyes broadening.

“Promise,” Hunk adds on, “whenever you’re ready, Keith.”

He manages to stop crying as the others perch themselves around him. Willingly, he buries his head into the crook of Lance’s shoulder and thinks of nothing but Shiro.

The coarse touch of his lips, his wide torso paired with valleys of muscle that Keith is sure he’ll be able to touch more as the days progress. He focuses on Shiro’s quirky little laugh, the grey sweater he wears three days a week and the seemingly endless strands of white hair.

Keith inhales Lance’s scent before he sighs into soft cotton.

“Thank you…” he splutters, lacking the energy to say anything more. 

Unwittingly, his roommate and company all exchange worried glances, knowing just how wrong keeping Keith’s soulmate mark from Shiro really is. But Lance embraces his roommate, all circumstances aside.

It wasn’t their choice to make. 

 

iv.

When Shiro asks Keith to be his boyfriend, he can’t imagine it going any other way. They’re out to breakfast on an odd Wednesday when Shiro pops the question out of nowhere. Keith accepts without a sliver of hesitation, knowing just how much he’d wanted it since the semester started.

He was coming from Lincoln hall, fresh from one of his huge engineering tests. It was, a  _ rough  _ one. Three days after his unimaginable date with Shiro, and he’s out failing tests left and right. ‘ _ The college experience’ _ , they said.

“I swear, I had  _ everything  _ in my head before the test,” Keith whines to him. He can only assume how childish he sounds. Deep down, he knows he could have studied a bit more than letting himself daydream about Shiro during his study group.

“It happens,” Shiro says regardless, sliding the rest of his fries over to Keith, who takes them reluctantly.

“You sure?” He asks, in terms of Shiro’s offering. The older man nods, shaking it off with a wave of his right hand.

“Not hungry.”

“You’re literally  _ always  _ hungry.”

Shiro shrugs, the small smile on his face an indicator of Keith’s accuracy. There were many little things that Keith’s picked up in the time he’s known Shiro: he’s stubborn, for one. Hence his never ending argument with Keith regarding the existence of demogorgons. When comfortable, Shiro can be too goofy for his own good, and he  _ never  _ leaves a meal unfinished. He hates wasting. If he does lose his appetite (which is rare in itself), he usually gives whatever he’s taken away. This—to Keith’s pleasure—caters to his gluttonous tendencies.

“Not today,” he says, “little bug in my stomach.”

“A-Are you okay?” Keith asks, full concern aimed at Shiro. He doesn’t even look paled with sickness. Could it be internal?

“Just nerves. I blame you.”

“ _ Me? _ ” Keith’s speech falls somewhere between inaudible and incomprehensible with the french fries in his mouth. Shiro chuckles quietly before holds his hand out for Keith to hold.

“Yes, you.”

Keith takes Shiro’s hand, a pulse running from his fingertips straight to the dull thump of his heart. As many times as they’ve kissed, to touch Shiro so intimately is a concept that will always be foreign. Every first _still_ feels like a first.

“Do you wanna be my boyfriend?”

The food Keith is swallowing lodges itself in the wrong pipe, and his body jolts when he coughs into his hands. Part of it is Keith just being an  _ idiot  _ at the perfect time, but the other part is sections of his brain replaying the uttering of the word  _ boyfriend  _ from Shiro’s lips.

“B-Boyfriend?” He manages to ask after taking a long sip of water. Shiro had lodged himself into Keith’s side of the booth not too long ago, pounding his hand into Keith’s back. Keith can hear him holding back laughs, body boiling with embarrassment.

“Yeah, boyfriend.” Shiro’s fingers tense along his shoulder blade, a caress that sparks shudders, “I know it’s only been like three days since our first day, but this feels right. And I’d like to be with you, like  _ that _ . If you’ll have me.”

“That’s good,” Keith responds, fighting to maintain a steady breathing pattern, “that’s… that’s great. Wow, yeah I’ll be your boyfriend.”

“O-Okay.” Shiro’s hand finds Keith’s again before he asks, “So, can I kiss you, or do you still need a minute?”

“Kiss me—just kiss me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Keith likes making out with Shiro.

He likes everything else, for sure; he likes the cuddling, the long walks, the dates. But he  _ really  _ likes making out with Shiro.

The first time—on their date in Pidge’s room—was just a  _ taste _ of what Shiro is capable of. Keith should have gone into this relationship expecting this, being that Shiro’s a few years older than him and has danced this tango a few more times than him as well.

But each time Shiro kisses him, he feels like a virgin, touched for the first time (maybe like the song, he isn’t sure yet). Even after a week of dating, his boyfriend’s lips are still made of fires that blaze his fields. He doesn’t know which one is worse; his hands, or his mouth.

Keith tries to pick one as Shiro willingly pins him to his mattress one odd night, lips attacking as his hands roam free among his body. The warmth radiating from his body rushes up Keith’s torso, blooming in his throat and rendering him breathless. He gasps into Shiro’s open mouth, and a low chuckle leaves the latter’s lips.

“Missed you too,” he murmurs, tracing the arch of Keith’s back with the underside of his fingers. Shiro had been gone all day, some stupid test he had to study for. Since their relationship begun, the pair have been inseparable, and this roadblock was one that Keith certainly didn’t approve of.

“Don’t… don’t leave for that long again,” he stutters breathily as Shiro’s lips brush the side of his neck. Sirens blare in Keith’s head for a moment when Shiro nears the hypersensitive crescent moon etched onto his skin. But all worry melts away, a pathetic moan taking its place.

“I won’t if I can afford it,” he says, barely above a whisper as his teeth sink into supple skin, “but don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.”

They’ve been like  _ rabbits  _ since getting together, too. Keith made it clear in the beginning that he wants to take sex slow. Shiro had agreed, but not before stating that he certainly isn’t opposed to  _ other  _ sexual acts.

Keith, lucky for him, happened to be on the same page.

Heat pools in the pit of his stomach, Keith’s heavy breaths spilling into desperate whines, grinding on whatever part of Shiro is closest to his groin. The older man is a tease. It’s ridiculous, and he’s been dealing with it  _ all week _ , learning each other and what makes them tick. Keith is at the point where Shiro’s combativeness is turning him into a ticking time bomb.

“Fucking— _ ah _ —Shiro,” he gasps, voice practically vanished as Shiro bites down on his collarbone with specific roughness.

He wonders how far it’ll go, what’ll happen if Shiro marks him. It wouldn’t be the first time this week; every time they see each other, they manage to get themselves in this position. From innocent, curt pecks on puckered lips to fiery passion in Keith’s sheets - hot mouth, wet tongues, unquenchable thirst.

Shiro’s teeth nip at his fresh bruise, Keith already imagining what the ugly purple looks like on his pale neck. The thought makes him grip Shiro’s shoulders. It makes him grind his body with more desperation that he could muster, and his mouth kiss harder.

Shiro’s head tilts, catching Keith’s lips once more before pulling away with a smack. His mouth glides along his torso as his fingers work the hem of his t-shirt, inching the fabric up along his skin. 

Then Shiro’s sinking down, digging his teeth into the flesh of his stomach, sending the younger to different  _ worlds _ —

Then the lock on Keith’s door clicks. Lance’s voice follows shortly.

Shiro’s actions halt abruptly and the two stare up at each other with wide eyes.

“Fuck fuck  _ fuck  _ fuck—” Shiro pulls Keith’s shirt back down at the ring of Lance’s voice. Keith follows Shiro’s haste, fixing his sheets until he realizes there’s no hope and just throws them to the side. Any adrenaline rush he once had depletes when the door opens.

“But I swear, my writing professor is an—” Lance stops mid-sentence, eyes raking across the room and resting on the two of them as they sit on Keith bed. Lance is no idiot - he’s connecting the dots with every flutter of his eyelashes.

“Oh god.”

Shiro smiles sheepishly, flipping his forelock to the side. It’s so natural and flawless, Keith has to hold every part of him back from crawling back into his lap.

“Is this my life now?” Lance whines, dropping his backpack on the floor. Pidge follows close behind his roommate, a pleasant smirk mixed with a bit of deviance on her face.

“They  _ are  _ dating, Lance.” Pidge throws Keith a wink. He hasn’t exactly,  _ disclosed  _ the status of their relationship after the date. All Pidge really needed were the last puzzle pieces: Shiro, Keith, and his bed.

“Yeah, but can’t they be dating somewhere else? Like, oh, I dunno,  _ anywhere else but here? _ ”

“This isn’t just your room, Lance.” Keith says, reminded of all the times he was told the same thing. Shiro stays silent, wrapping a lazy arm around his waist as if it’s home. The tint of red on his cheek deepens, and Keith wants to slap his hand away. That is, until his fingertips sneak underneath his shirt again, tickling his hip.

“But that was when both of us were single! Like, you have a  _ boyfriend _ . Thanks to me, by the way, remember that?”

Keith’s body goes rigid as Shiro looks down at him. “Thanks to him?”

“N-Nothing—” He stutters before being interrupted again.

“The  _ point _ is, why aren’t you in Shiro’s room?! He doesn’t have a roommate!”

“I mean, I don’t,” Shiro speaks up now, “but I was coming back from study group. And Keith was the only one here, so…”

“ _ Technically _ , that’s legal roommate etiquette then, Lance.” Pidge backs them again and Keith feels bad for the small smile that creeps up, but he lets it come anyway.

“I texted you too,” Keith nods to Lance’s pocket, “unless you didn’t check again.”

Lance blinks before reaching for his phone, each one of his movements in evident frustration. That is, until he sees Keith’s text and realizes that he indeed  equipped him  with a warning.

“Shit. Okay, I surrender.”

Keith smirks now, ear pressing into Shiro’s shoulder.

“Ha. Told you.”

“You smile a lot more,” Lance snorts, dropping his bag and beginning to unpack its contents, “it makes me sick.”

“You’re welcome,” Shiro says, and when Keith looks at him with flustered doe eyes, the former only presses a kiss to his cheekbone. There’s no escape now. Keith can only bury his face into his hands as Shiro’s laugh thrums against his weak little body.

“Just don’t have sex on my bed.” Lance says.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” It comes out as a groan from the cage Keith’s made with hands, but Shiro jumps to agree.

“We’re not animals,” he says, “that, and Keith’s bed is a lot comfier than yours.”

“ _ What?! _ ”

From there, Lance volunteers to leave them alone, exiting with Pidge, and a billowing cloud of smoke that fumes from his ears. 

“Wanna just… go to my room next time?” Shiro offers and Keith nods in agreement, fingers clutching the inside of his bicep.

“Yeah, totally.”

  
  


v.

“Keith?”

“...Keith? Babe?”

“Keith!”

Keith sits up in an instant, bracing himself against the wall. Shiro stares at him from where he lays, arms wrapped loosely around his waist and bare chest pressed up against his stomach.

“S-Shiro?” He asks, looking around the room for a possible answer as to why he’s being disturbed. Not that Shiro is a distribution in the slightest. He could be waking him up for a kiss and Keith would probably be alright with it.

“I can’t sleep,” he says simply, white strands of hair matted against his forehead. 

“I… do you want some water? We can take a walk, or something…”

Shiro’s had troubles sleeping before, but it was never really a big deal. He’d always roll out of bed, immerse himself in work. Keith commends him for it, though he wishes that Shiro would be able to find peace in slumber instead. 

But he’s never bothered Keith in the middle of the night for it. The younger isn’t really sure how to handle it, offering whatever he can.

“Can we go to Lincoln Hall?”

Lincoln Hall is where Keith has most of his more demanding classes. To be away from that place is a blessing in itself, bad memories of failed tests and stress inducing assignments drawing Keith away from the get go.

“Lincoln? Why?”

“There’s an observatory up there,” Shiro sits up in his bed, “I can get us onto the roof.”

“The  _ roof?  _ Aren’t there cameras up there?”

“Nobody checks those,” he rolls his eyes, “come on, it’ll be fun.”

Shiro’s already slipping a decent pair of sweatpants up his legs and throwing Keith one of his worn sweaters before he can protest. Keith holds Shiro’s garment in his hands, knowing that once he puts it on there’s no going back.

“Shiro, can’t we just sleep?” He asks, more whines, as he watches his boyfriend toe his sliders on. Shiro snatches a pin off his desk, snapping it on some of his overly ruly hair.

“Sleep is for the weak.” Shiro taunts before urging him to get dressed, “Babe it’s just a walk, I promise!”

“Fine fine fine,” Keith is unable to resist Shiro’s pleading at this point, pulling the oversized garment over his bed head and letting his legs dangle off the mattress. He takes awhile to put his shoes on, and doesn’t bother fixing anything else as Shiro grabs his hand, dragging them out of the room.   
  
“The walk to Lincoln is awful as it is,” Keith says as they stroll past the RA desk, “I can’t believe you’re making me do this at night.” 

“You like walking the campus at night,” Shiro reminds him, “you’re only grumpy because you’re tired.”

And yeah, Keith is pretty fucking tired. It’s winter break, and they’re walking around their empty campus in the middle of the night. The story of why they’re spending their break at college is one that requires much less explanation than one would anticipate.

Neither of them have anywhere to go. Keith would be lacking a roommate (Lance hadn’t stopped talking about going to Cuba and seeing his family the entire last week of the semester), and Pidge and Hunk would also be going to their respective homes (Pidge and Hunk uncharacteristically joined in on Lance’s endless chatter). Keith, who’d already planned on staying on campus, was more than ecstatic to hear he indeed wouldn’t be alone.

But to hear Shiro had nowhere to go either, cut deep.

“How do you expect to get in?” Keith asks as a cool breeze greets them outside.

“Campus doesn’t lock their doors,” Shiro explains, “my first year here? We broke into all the buildings.”   
  
“You didn’t get into trouble?” Keith asks again, to which he shakes his head as he leads them down a paved path.

“Nope,” he grins, “and we won’t get in trouble today, either.”   
  


Keith has a lot of reasons to trust Shiro. For one, he’s almost positive that the older man has never lied to him. He’s  _ seen  _ Shiro lie to Lance and Pidge before. Hunk, when he’s here, but the older man has never had the reason to. The point alone is that Keith knows Shiro’s tells. And his heart seizes when he realizes just how important it is that he’s never spotted those tells in their moments alone.

It only takes them a few minutes to get to the building, and a few seconds for Shiro to push the door open and prove his point, not a single buzzer or alarm in earsight.

“What? Didn’t trust me?” Shiro teases, Keith pressing a soft kiss to his cheek in response. The familiar stairwells flood with darkness in the middle of the night, the absence of clamoring students and filled classrooms leaving a strange void in Keith’s chest. He isn’t sure if he misses the noise, or only craves it because of the risk they’re running.

“It’s just up here,” Shiro nods towards another set of stairs, slipping past some abandoned classroom furniture that sits in the hallway. He slips past expertly, Keith still straggling behind. Shiro played sports in high school, which surely explained his dexterity, but Keith was the complete opposite, embarrassingly so.

When Keith hears the creak of a back door, relief floods throughout his body. After passing through the observatory and reuniting with him, Shiro smiles calmly, holding his hand out to drag Keith the rest of the way.

“You’re slow,” he muses, lifting Keith up onto the roof level with the strength of his lone arm, “like, ridiculously slow.”

“Sorry I wasn’t a star football player,” He responds with an ample amount of sass in his tone. Shiro only shrugs, keeping a tight hold on his hand as he leads him to where he assumes the view is best. They wouldn’t be satisfied without it.

“ _ Soccer _ ,” Shiro corrects him, and Keith blushes furiously.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, but luckily the elder waves it off.

“No worries; this could probably act as our third date, anyway. So I don’t expect you to remember anything,” Shiro throws him a wink and Keith rolls his eyes, tossing his head back pursing his lips before turning to the sky unfolded before them.

“We’ve been on a lot more dates,” Keith sighs, resting his chin him his palm. Shiro creeps behind him, not that Keith couldn’t sense the familiar warmth. Shiro was beginning to lose his art of stealth, the more Keith submerged himself in his presence.

“I guess…” Shiro hums. Keith glances up at him after awhile, a sad, yet complacent smile resting comfortably on his face. It’s not his usual ecstatic grin, more so something that looks more at peace than anything. Keith can barely sense the comings of a laugh, or a witty comment. He looks like he wants to talk, but Keith doesn’t even know where to start. He wonders if this is what he looks like all the time, why Lance always feels the need to ask him questions. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to channel some of his roommate’s tendencies.

It doesn’t take much time for Keith to interject the silence, already missing Shiro’s voice.

“Can you tell me about your grandfather?”

“My grandfather?”

Shiro tenses, and Keith regrets asking. He knows it’s sensitive content, but it’s not like he hasn’t mentioned him before.

“Yeah. I’ve heard so much about how great he was just… no information otherwise.”

Shiro nods, fingertips fiddling with his hair. It’s growing out, Keith notices. He isn’t sure whether he wants him to cut it or not. He’s recently discovered how much he likes pulling on it when they make out. 

“I dunno, I just don’t… talk about him. It’s a long story.”

Keith accepts that, knowing that sometimes Shiro  _ is  _ a private man. 

“But, I am willing to cave. Under one condition.”

“Oh really? What’s that?” Keith shivers, part from laughter and part from the cold, snowy breeze rushing up his spine. Shiro notices, proceeding to collect him in an excessive bear hug.

“If I talk about my grandpa, you have to talk about your parents.”

_ What?! _

“ _ What _ .”

“I—I mean come on! You’ve never mentioned a thing about your mom and dad!” Shiro exclaims. He has a point.

“So we both go?” Keith asks.

“Yup; an eye for an eye,” Shiro closes one of his eyes, pointing at it before turning the finger to Keith’s eye.

“Stop quoting movies,” he rolls his eyes and grips Shiro’s hand, “fine, deal.”

“Great.” Shiro leans back on the railing, leaving Keith’s body with that cold, empty feeling he hates. “You’re first.”

_ Of course he is _ . Keith tries to find a place to start. He’s never had to  _ tell _ the story of his mother and father before. People have asked before. Wanted to know why he was so grumpy and unapproachable. Somehow, they connected that to his past. Somehow, troublesome parents are the only explanation for a troublesome boy.

“I mean… my dad was never in my life. Was gone before I was born. And my mom? She couldn’t deal with it alone forever.”

Shiro doesn’t comment. Only nods. Keith’s grateful for the lack of sympathy, though he knows it’s there.

“It was a cautionary tale after that. Foster parents loved me until they didn’t. Other than school, I didn’t really have a place that I could call uh, home. I remember some of the homes, some of the families, but I think my mind literally just, repressed most of the memories.”

“Is that all you wanna tell me?” Shiro asks sincerely, “I don’t want to push you.”

“That’s all there  _ is  _ to tell, really.”

“They didn’t leave you anything about your mom? I’m sorry, I don’t know much about the process.”

“It’s okay,” Keith smiles kindly, “it’s no big deal, I just… they didn’t leave me much.”

He’s lying, but it’s only to cover his first one. His mother did leave something with him. 

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says again, reaching out for him both emotionally and physically. Keith allows it, only for a moment.

“Whatever. It’s whatever, Shiro. Tell me about your grandpa now!” Keith urges, “I only know that he’s a painter.”

“And a sick ass parent.”

“ _ Tell me _ , Shiro.”

“Okay okay,” he sighs, “alright uh, he paints—”

“Knew that.”

“—and it was his  _ passion  _ for a long time,” Shiro continues, giving Keith’s side a playful pinch, “my parents ah, weren’t around. But it’s cause they died.”

Keith’s face flushes, hand reaching to take Shiro’s. “I’m so sorry, Shiro.”

“Don’t—it’s alright. It was so long ago. I don’t remember much about them. Grandpa said they were great, though. I’m sure they would have loved to meet you.”

Keith blinks at the mention of it. He hadn’t realized if the time came, they’d never be able to meet each other’s parents. Or, respective guardians. Keith never had consistent family, and assuming Shiro’s usage ‘had’ and ‘was’ is deliberate, his grandfather isn’t around anymore.

“He died last year,” Shiro utters, reading Keith’s very thoughts, “it uh…it  _ sucked _ , to be honest. I know he wanted to be at my graduation. He… supported me a lot more than one would assume.”

“I’m sure…” Is the only thing Keith can think to say.

“I uh,” Shiro brushes at tears that fall from his eyes quickly, almost hiding themselves from Keith, who wraps himself around Shiro tight, snuggling his head in the curve of his neck.

“Hey hey,” he soothes, “you don’t have to say anything else.”

“But I—”

“Shiro, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

Keith hadn’t thought there would be a day he pushed too far with Shiro. Since their relationship started, Keith kept pushing. Out of curiosity, he supposes. Shiro seemed to be unbreakable, boundless in all ways. Keith, opposingly filled with fear and constantly placing roadblocks in the way of the people around him, couldn’t help but  _ push _ . See how much Shiro would give him before he eventually snapped.

In all likelihood, they’d reached his breaking point.

Keith shifts, perching his ass on the little ledge that’s offered to him as he holds Shiro in his arms. There are shudders that the younger man can feel more than he can hear. Shiro clutches onto the clothes hanging from his body, and Keith can’t do anything but let him react.

Silence resumes soon enough, the two men taken from their emotional strain and dragged back to present day by the slew of stars and darkness that tints the sky. Shiro’s hands stay balled in tight fists, still physically close enough that Keith doesn’t have to worry he’s upset. The events of the city are still overly tangible memories that plague him, even when Shiro’s lips are on his. To be in that position, to harbor that fear again, would certainly be his undoing.

“My uh… my parents would have loved to meet you too. I don’t know what they’d say, but I know that no matter what they were like, it would be hard to dislike you.” He says quietly.

Shiro huffs pleasantly into the air.

“Well…” his hand unfurls, taking Keith’s gently, “ _ if _ my grandfather were here, he’d say that you’re a wonderful person.”

Keith’s chest pangs. Shiro’s eyes glisten with tears, and his hand squeezes the Keith’s with broken affirmation.

“He’d say that you’re driven and shy, but that the shy part is good for me. Because you’d bring me down when I’m too high in the clouds. He’d say you’re interesting, and unique, and that there isn’t anyone in the world he could see me with, except you.”

It’s here where the concept of time comes to mind. They’d barely been dating for two months, but here Shiro was, stripping lines from romance novels. 

“I don’t know them well, but… if my mom and dad were here, they’d say the same thing. But they’d say you bring a smile on my face more often than they could.”

Shiro laughs quietly, scooting closer and letting his free hand card through Keith’s hair.

“Yeah, they’d totally say that,” Keith smiles into the hand that holds his cheek, “and they’d tell you that you’re well put together, handsome—”

“Oh shit, I forgot that,” Shiro says sheepishly, “you’re handsome too.”

“Shush,” Keith kisses his fingertips, “I just… they’d tell you that you make me happy. And they’d say they want that to keep happening for a long time.”

Keith tugs on his bottom lip, stomach still churning from the intensity of his little confession. Wind slips between them, sending shivers down his spine. But Shiro takes his arm, pulling the younger boy into a warm hug. 

“Thank you, love.”

Is this love? Did they say it? In their own weird, indirect way? He knows if Lance was here, and not in Cuba, he’d be yelling at him.  _ It’s too soon, Keith! These things take time, Keith!  _ And he knows in the bottom of his heart, that he doesn’t know what love is. He surely hasn’t solved the mystery in a couple of mere months. But here, he feels close.

“I got you something,” Shiro opens his jacket, unfastening the buttons quickly and pulling a square object wrapped in brown paper out, “it’s ah, really nothing, but I figured you’d want it.”

Keith’s stomach drops. It’s  _ Christmas _ . Usually he never bought presents for anyone, but Shiro should have been an exception. When did Shiro even find the time to get him a present? And how had he snuck it out of the room?

“I didn’t get you anything,” Keith confesses, “I’m so sorry Shiro, I—”

“Hey,” Shiro shakes his head, “no, that’s not what this is. Waking up and seeing your face is every day is literally a present enough. I just wanted to do this.  _ Stuff _ doesn’t matter to me, Keith. Just…”

Shiro pushes the present into his hands.

“Open it.”

Reluctantly, Keith tears the worn brown paper off the object. Little lights blink from inside, and a gleeful sensation bubbles in his stomach.

“The lights are for  _ Stranger Things _ ,” Shiro wears a gentle smile that spreads past his cheeks as Keith reveals the entire gift, “and the picture was the one we took—”

“—In front of the dining hall.” Keith remembers that day fairly well. The group had agreed to cave to free dining rather than spending more flex dollars that day. It was nice outside for the winter, the temperature at an unnaturally high degree. 

Once they had finished their meal, Lance, Hunk and Pidge walked ahead per usual. Shiro and Keith took their normal position in the back of the pack, hands entwined tight together. Keith remembers exactly how his other hand cupped Shiro’s bicep, head nuzzled on his shoulder. Always warm, always soft in the right places.

“Awe,” Lance had cooed, “they look kinda cute like that. Quick, someone take a picture before Keith notices.”

But Keith had noticed before Lance even finished, burying his face behind Shiro before Hunk could even take his cell out.

“Oh—awe come  _ on  _ Keith! You’re gonna want to remember this relationship somehow!”

Shiro swiveled to meet Keith’s eyes, royal lavender and filled with discomfort. 

“Hey, gimme a kiss.”

“Shiro,” Keith had tugged on his arm, urging him forward, “they’re just being dumb. We don’t have to.”

“What about them? I just want a kiss, Keith.”

Shiro wrapped his left arm around his boyfriend’s lower back, lifting him up and crushing their lips together.

“Shiro—”

The older man had ignored him, pursuing another kiss and sliding his mouth against Keith’s. All sound and movement had fallen from his world, per usual, and well, it made a really good picture.

“You got it printed?” Keith admires the photo nestled in the small frame that was previously wrapped and concealed from the world.

“I just…” Shiro sighs, fingertips tugging at his hair, “can I tell you something? I’m warning you now, because I don’t wanna sound like a lovesick mess.”

“No no,” Keith says, mind spinning helplessly, “I want to hear it.”

Shiro takes a deep breath, hand dragging down his face. Suddenly, Keith’s nervous. He’s never seen Shiro so distraught, or rather, concerned about anything regarding their relationship, until now. There’s no reason to be afraid, sure, but he can’t help but feel clammy as Shiro begins talking.

“You ever feel like, you’re drawn to someone?”

“Yeah. You.” Keith answers honestly. He can’t help it; maybe he’s losing air while they’re so high. Maybe it’s just that he feels alright saying it. There’s something about Shiro’s gaze that tells him it’s okay.

“See! See, me too! I just… when we met? In the theater, something was telling me to keep talking to you. I don’t know if it was like,  _ God?  _ Or maybe it was just the Force, you know, Star Wars stuff—”

Shiro’s…  _ a mess _ . But it’s a mess that has Keith tearing up. Everything he’s been feeling inside, coiled and searing his heart, spills from the one person he could accept hearing it from.

“All I wanted to say, is that I literally feel drawn to you. I—I know it hasn’t been long, but I do. And I have yet to regret a moment of time I spend with you.”

Keith knows that it’s truth. No matter how many times he would deny and refute his feelings, he always came back to Shiro. But for him to say that he’s equally drawn to Keith in turn? He feels just a bit lighter when he crosses the comfortable distance to kiss him firmly.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “I love it.”

Shiro kisses him again, on the lips, then the forehead, before turning and hugging him from behind. Keith braces them against the railing, ensuring they won’t fall eight stories, before easing into the new hold. The curve of his smile is wider than usual, as he’s just realized for himself how lucky he is. He’s known for a long time that Shiro isn’t just  _ Shiro _ . He’s a special breed; one that Keith can say is his. Tonight gave him something more to cherish about him. About  _ them _ .

Shiro’s chin makes a home on the top of his head as they look out at the tops of campus buildings. He can clearly see where the skyline meets the roof of Trinity Hall. They ran all that way to the observatory, and Keith still can’t believe it. Can’t believe  _ any  _ of it, really. Shiro’s sweater protects him from the cold, breeze still just as brutal as it was when they stumbled onto the roof.

“Wanna know something?” His voice is soft and peaceful, like mornings when Keith doesn’t have to go to class, and can just lay in his boxers, caged in his lover’s arms. Keith nuzzles the side of his forehead into Shiro’s chest further, eyelashes flutters shut as Shiro presses a soft kiss at the tip of his widow’s peak.

“Yeah?”

“Grandpa used to say that sometimes if you look close enough, you can see pure purple in the sunrise.”

Keith makes sure to keep his eyes open - makes sure his grip on Shiro’s arm is unbroken as sunlight peaks from underneath the darkness.

Yeah. Shiro could damn well be the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 3 comin' at y'all soon! (i can only hope)


End file.
